


Gold to Airy Thinness Beat

by ISeeFire



Series: A Lady and Her Captain [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Alternate Universe - World War II, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Captain America: The First Avenger, Drama, F/M, Family, Fem Steve Rogers - Freeform, Female Steve Rogers, Follows Movies to a Point, Friendship, Hydra (Marvel), Romance, Slow Burn, Super Soldier Serum, Superheroes, Then Goes off on its Own
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-07-27 00:59:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 44
Words: 178,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7597150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ISeeFire/pseuds/ISeeFire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The list of reasons Stephanie Rogers couldn't enlist were long.<br/>She was small.<br/>She was frail.<br/>She was in poor health.</p><p>She was female. </p><p>The list of reasons for why she fully intended to ignore all that and do her best to enlist anyway was short.<br/>Bucky was going.<br/>Her best friend.<br/>Her only friend.<br/>The friend who'd been there her entire life, every time she'd needed him, every time she'd called.<br/>Always.<br/>And she'd be dammned if anyone was going to stop her from returning the favor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story loosely follows the events of Captain America: First Avenger. Movie dialogue is used at various points, sometimes lifted directly from the movie, other times tweaked a bit. Events are somewhat re-interpreted and the entire story changes direction dramatically at a certain point. This is because I imagine things would affect a woman in that era differently than a man and because I always figure if people wanted Captain America: First Avenger (myself included) we'd all just go pop the DVD in and watch it. That's why I try to follow things loosely and keep the spirit of things but re-interpret to keep things interesting! :D This story is pretty much done. I wrote it all in one chunk and have been breaking it into chapters to send to my beta to edit and then to post. :D

"You were what?" Stephanie asked, unable to keep the shock from her voice.

Bucky grinned at her, the fake one he used when he was trying to convince everyone, including himself, that everything was fine when it was anything but.

"Drafted," the words were like a death knell, the light around them dimming at the sound. "I'm going to fight."

"No, Bucky," Stephanie blurted. Bucky. No one would call him that in the military, her mind informed her irrationally. No one would know him well enough, would understand the history, the character and the personality that created the man she knew as Bucky. In the military he'd simply be a name and a number. James Buchanan Barnes, a soldier, more fodder for a war that seemed destined to never end.  

Her voice had been louder than she'd intended and several patrons in the small diner turned to look at her in disapproval. Stephanie ignored them. She wasn't in the mood to be a quiet, demure lady who sat and held her tongue while the only family, blood or otherwise, she had left told her about being drafted into a war that seemed to have a talent at taking living men from their homes and returning them in body bags.

His grin faltered and _that_ did get her attention. She took a deep breath, trying to get herself under control. She doubted it would fool him any more than his attitude fooled her but they both played the game regardless. "Have you received your orders yet?" She managed to keep her voice steady with only the slightest hint of tension.

"No," he said, his eyes moving away from hers to some random point in the diner, "but it won't be long."

Stephanie felt sick. Bucky was exactly what they wanted in a soldier, fit, athletic and in amazing health. Not a single physical, or personality, defect to get rejected over. He was attractive too, the steady stream of girls constantly swarming him was testament to that. Even then Stephanie was aware of at least four in the diner who couldn't keep their eyes off him and two more who were trying to sneak glances when they thought their dates weren't looking. Bucky would be the one the cameras would gravitate to, the reels in the theaters using him to showcase the armed forces. It might work in his favor, might keep him safer as one of the faces of the armed forces...or it might not.  

The two of them were as different as night and day. Even if her medical file didn't read like an Encyclopedia of Disease she was too small, too fragile and delicate and, most of all, too female. She'd never added her sex to her list of physical defects before but, right then, it seemed the most glaring one. From the beginning she'd been struck by the video reels in the theaters, images of the Nazis and terrified civilians, soldiers marching forward to meet evil. She'd thought then that, were she a man, she'd have signed up, volunteered to fight. As it was, the only options open to her were nursing which she wasn't trained for, or a secretary which simply wasn't what she wanted. Now, with the knowledge that Bucky would soon be sent off without her, a face suddenly given to the mass of faceless soldiers she watched in the theaters, the war suddenly far more personal than it'd ever been before, the unfairness of it all hit home even harder. Why should she have to stay behind when she wanted to go while he had to go when he wanted to stay?

She found her eyes on one of the girls openly staring at Bucky. She was pretty, all curves and hips, long legs turned to the side and crossed in the hopes of gaining Buck's attention. On any other given day, she'd probably already have it. Bucky was a serial dater. He'd had a lot of relationships but had yet to have one either of them would classify as serious.

Stephanie looked nothing at all like that girl, or any of the usual sorts of young women Bucky dated. She had zero curves. Her chest had taken a vacation during puberty, coming back only at the very end to present her with breasts so small she could barely justify the need, or expense, of a bra. If it weren't for her hair, currently in a thin braid down her back, most would probably mistake her for a... for a boy...

She sucked in a breath and felt adrenaline surge through her. Her eyes widened and she straightened in the chair. The idea was insane but also caused a bright swell of hope to spring up inside her.

"What?" Bucky asked, his voice flat. "What have you thought up now?"

She wasn't stupid enough to tell him. Instead she simply smiled brightly at him, a genuine one this time. "Nothing."

Bucky's eyes narrowed in suspicion but there was little he could do about it. He knew better than anyone how stubborn she was.

He scowled instead. "I don't know if I'm more worried about going over there or what's going to happen to you back here without me to pull you out of whatever you get yourself into."

Stephanie rolled her eyes. "I can take care of myself."

He gave her a look of disbelief and she knew he was thinking of the many, many, _many_ times he'd had to save her from being harassed, or outright assaulted. She couldn't abide bullies and any time one reared their head she'd find herself going after them. The fact that many of these bullies were men, and most were significantly larger than her was what Bucky claimed kept him awake at night. She'd been pushed around more times than she could count, roughed up and even outright punched in the face a few times, usually by those who'd had more than a few beers first. It had led to Bucky developing a serious hero complex around her, as well as a deep seated paranoia about leaving her unsupervised. The longer he was gone, the more likely it seemed he'd come back to find her about to get her bell rung. His worry had gotten worse now that her parents were both gone and his had moved away. Stephanie wasn't exactly what one would call social, leading to Bucky being pretty much the only person she considered a friend, or family, in all of Brooklyn. "I'll be fine," she insisted again. He'd have enough to worry about over there without adding her to the mix.

He didn't look convinced. "Just promise me you won't do anything stupid while I'm gone, alright?"

She rolled her eyes. "Like I could. You'll be taking all the stupid with you."

"You're a punk," Bucky said without heat. He reached for his wallet and tossed some bills on the table, more than enough for her meal, his untouched milkshake and the tip.

"Jerk," Stephanie retorted with a slight smile. She started to argue she could pay for her own meal only to have him raise an eyebrow in a clear challenge, daring her to try it after he'd let her slide on not giving him the promise he'd asked for.

Stephanie scowled but didn't press the issue, instead simply giving him a look that was half glare and half concession. The grin of triumph he shot back had her narrowing her eyes and almost, _almost_ reconsidering but, in the end, she let it go.

Bucky was better off than she was financially. His job at the warehouse paid quite well while she made far less as a secretary. He was always trying to pay for everything they did together, the theater, dinners and the like. If she refused he'd pull out a hurt look that made her feel eight kinds of guilty, even if she did know he was blatantly manipulating her. Bucky was not her personal bank and, in spite of the almost constant trouble she got herself in, she did not need him to take care of her. Usually.

They left a few minutes later, Stephanie absently wrapping both arms around Bucky's bicep as he walked her home, much to the annoyance of the girls in the diner who had set their caps toward him. Stephanie barely noticed, too deep in thought over her slowly growing plan. She _did_ notice the tension in Bucky's arm. When she was deep in thought she tended to walk into, and off, things which meant any time she held Bucky's arm, to keep herself oriented, he automatically worried. She squeezed his arm in reassurance, hoping he'd think she was just worried over him being drafted.

What he didn't know wouldn't kill her.  

***

She chose the name Steve Rogers for her enlistment form. It was close enough to her own that she felt she'd answer to it when called. The last thing she wanted to do was sit there like a dunce because she couldn't remember the fake name she'd put down.

She wrote it down five different times. Five different recruitment offices, five different enlistment forms, five different places of birth to keep them from putting together it was her over and over again.

She got in the door easily enough. She'd chopped her hair off the day after Bucky told her he'd been drafted, a fact which led to many disapproving looks from people on the street but it was worth it. Her job threatened to fire her for being unprofessional and looking like a hooligan, their words, but had calmed down when she'd claimed a jerk on the street had stuck gum in her hair and her only recourse had been to cut it. Bucky had been stunned when he saw it. She'd given him the same gum excuse she'd given her job. She was sure he saw right through it, particularly when she claimed she hadn't gone after the person responsible and couldn't give him a description so he could track the jerk down, but she was hopeful he wouldn't figure out what she was actually up too. It was pretty insane after all, even for her. Granted, if anyone could put it together, it'd be Bucky but she was banking on the fact he was too preoccupied with getting his affairs in order to put it together. It helped that she didn't see him as often. He spent all day working and the rest trying to get things in place so his life wouldn't fall apart while he was gone. It meant she didn't have to make repeated excuses to him about where she was and what she was doing. There was no possible way he wouldn't have picked up on something then.

Getting a pair of trousers and shirt was also easy. Bucky had given her a key to his apartment ages ago so she could go in and out as she wished. His place was closer to her job than her own and she would occasionally go over on her lunch break to relax when she got worn out. In return she'd prepare dinner for him and leave it in the icebox for when he got home. On one of her trips she scrounged around in the back of his closet and found an older shirt he'd planned to turn into a rag and a pair of trousers he rarely wore. He'd never miss them and she wouldn't feel as bad over having to alter them to fit.

After that it was just a matter of walking through the doors of the enlistment center. No one questioned her gender. Her age and physical ability, yes, given her size, but not her gender. The first time she tried it she was hopeful. Everything went so smoothly she was almost sure it was destiny guiding her way, right up until she was shown into a room full of shirtless men and ordered to disrobe so they could check her physical readiness.

She'd feigned sudden illness to get out of that one with her dignity, and modesty, intact. The next time she'd deliberately picked a center that had separate rooms and beds set up for medical checks. She'd hoped to beg her way in, tell the doctor her story and throw herself upon his compassion and mercy.

The doctor had, in fact, shown mercy, by not having her immediately arrested for falsifying her enlistment form. The third and fourth had not been as kind. The third had chased her out while the fourth had physically thrown her out. Admittedly she had offered him a bribe so it was understandable he'd taken offense. She really should have known better but had been at the point of desperation. The hard landing in the street caused cuts to her hands and knees from where she'd impacted the cobblestone. It had taken Bucky all of a half second to notice and she'd had to explain it away as tripping over her own feet, which had led to good natured teasing from him for days.

The fifth had been the worst experience, and the most demoralizing. The doctor had offered to help her, leading to a surge of hope only to dash it almost immediately by adding he expected a "favor" in return. The lewd way he'd looked at her had made the nature of the favor he wanted abundantly clear. She'd ended up kicking him in his knee, one of several moves Bucky had taught her, and stalked out with her head held high and her back straight.

It was only after she'd snuck into the dressing room of a nearby department store to change and begun walking home that her shoulders had started to droop and a deep sense of depression and resignation had settled over her.

By the time she reached the rickety stairs leading up to her small apartment her feet were dragging and her eyes were fixed on the ground.

She didn't notice Bucky in her kitchen until she'd nearly walked past him and he cleared his throat to get her attention.

She jumped a foot and whirled to see him sprawled out in a chair facing her, one arm resting on the table, the other on his leg. Stephanie opened her mouth to yell at him, only to snap it closed at the sight of the uniform he was wearing, the hat that completed it on the table near his hand.

"You got your orders," she said, her heart falling to her feet.

He held a slip of paper up between his thumb and forefinger. "Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes of the 107th at your service."

Part of her wanted to imagine it was someone else. That somewhere there existed a James Buchanan Barnes who would get up and go overseas while Bucky, her Bucky, would stay behind.

Dimly the rest of what he'd said registered. The 107th. The regiment her father had fought, and died, with.

It was not comforting.

"Where have you been?" Bucky continued and there was the slightest hint of an accusation in his voice that made Stephanie think perhaps he hadn't been as oblivious to her being up to something as she'd hoped.

"Nowhere," she responded shortly. She walked past him stiffly, heading toward the cupboard to make coffee. Well, an approximation of coffee. The real stuff was rationed, and expensive. "When do you leave?"

"Two days."

The mug she'd been in the process of pulling out slipped from her hand. It hit the edge of the counter, cracked and rolled off, shattering on the floor in a smattering of shards about her feet, the sound loud in the otherwise quiet apartment. Behind her she heard the sound of the chair scraping across the floor and then Bucky's boots on the wooden floorboards in the living room. He returned with the dustpan and small brush she kept in the hall closet. He dropped to one knee at her feet and swept the glass up, the shards rattling into the pan.

Stephanie tried to get ahold of herself and reached over him to get a new mug. As she did she was horrified to feel her eyes beginning to burn and mentally cursed. She angled her body away from Bucky and tried to not blink, looking up slightly as her vision blurred as if that would somehow keep the tears in check. She very rarely cried and didn't want Bucky's last memory of her before shipping out to be her blubbering like an idiot. After a moment the feeling faded and she surreptitiously reached up and wiped quickly at her face, trying to pass it off as if she was merely dealing with an itch.

Bucky dumped the shards in the trash and put the dustpan away. He dropped back into his chair and sat in silence, absently tapping the edge of his orders against the surface. He looked deep in thought over something, his eyes fixed on some spot in the far off distance. When he got like that he often forgot where he was, or that he was with anyone. Stephanie left him to it.

It was only when she set a steaming cup of not-quite-coffee in front of him, and sat down with her own, that his eyes returned from wherever he'd been and refocused on her.

"So, I've been thinking."

"That's a first," Stephanie cut in and he glared at her.

"Punk."

"Jerk," she shot back. She raised the mug to take a sip of the hot brew and did her best not to grimace. He caught it anyway and snorted before looking away with a frown.

"Ah, to hell with it," he muttered under his breath a few minutes later. He shifted in his chair, reaching into a back pocket and then tossed something at her. Stephanie caught it instinctively She felt cool metal in her hand and looked down to see a slender, delicate looking gold band lying on her palm, a diamond set into a gap at the top.

"What is this?" she asked blankly.

"Pretty sure it's called a ring," Bucky replied dryly.

Stephanie resisted the urge to throw something at him. "I know that, smartass. Why are you giving it to me?"

"Language," Bucky said absently, not meeting her eyes. "Why do you think? I'm leaving tomorrow. I want you to marry me before I go."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my own headcanon and 100% just my own ideas but I always wondered at the movie and why Phillips refused to use Steve after the serum worked. The line about needing an army and only getting Steve and him not being enough just seemed bizarre - like saying, "Well, I needed ten tanks and all I got was one so I'm not going to use the one I did get because I wanted more than one" or like saying, "my car was damaged and the insurance company is only going to pay for half of the damages to be fixed but I need twice that amount so I'm just going to refuse ALL the money instead of taking what they're offering and trying to figure out the rest". It just seemed weird to me, BUT then I was thinking what if it turned out Steve was actually a female pretending to be a man and they didn't find out until after the serum? Now you've got the military being defrauded and tricked, they're embarrassed, they've got proverbial egg on their face, they're angry, AND it's a woman on top of that who, in that era, most certainly did not fight and, trying to put her out there, might be seen as an embarrassment to those who are used to only having men fight. So, to me (and, again, this is just me) it actually makes more sense to have a female Steve being rejected from fighting after the serum works rather than a male Steve. SO, all that said, that's what gave me the idea for this interpretation and that's the base headcanon I'm writing the story off of. I hope you all enjoy it! :D
> 
> To my regular readers, I said this was going to be another Hobbit AU and it started off that way but it quickly became apparent I was writing a FemSteve/Bucky fic with their names changed SO I figured, what the heck, and did that instead. :D


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My bad, I forgot to set this as a series. Sorry! I wrote it all as one document but I'm going through and breaking out five to six or so pages at a time and posting those. My beta currently has Chapter 6 and 7 I think and I've got 8 through 10 open on my desktop and then the rest of the document happily waiting to be broken into chapters. The story covers the entire movie but diverges at a point and goes in a different direction I have planned for it so it's not just all expected. Anyhoo, sorry about that! As an apology, here's Chapter 2 early! :D

Stephanie was convinced she'd misheard him. She ran the words through her mind again, and then again after that. Finally, deciding he had, in fact, said what she thought he had she resorted to simply gaping at him. "Have you lost your mind?" They had never, _ever_ been...that. Not even once, not so much as a hint to prepare her for him to suddenly...

Bucky dropped his head back with a groan of exasperation that Stephanie thought was just a bit melodramatic, and leaned forward, his eyes uncharacteristically intense. "I'm going overseas," he said bluntly, "and you're going to be stuck here in a bad apartment with no money, poor health, a big mouth and a troubling lack of basic self-preservation."

"Thanks for the glowing assessment of my life," Stephanie said, stung.

He scowled. "It's going to be winter soon and this shack you call an apartment is drafty and leaks." He must have seen her proverbial hackles beginning to rise because he let out a growl of frustration and grabbed her hand, folding her fingers over the ring. "You know how sick you got last winter," he said, switching tacks and trying to come at her from a different angle. "You nearly died."

"But I didn't," Stephanie said shortly, jerking her hand free. "I was fine."

"Because your mother was there to take care of you and I was there to run errands," Bucky retorted. "What are you going to do this year if you get sick? Who's going to help?"

"I'll hire someone," Stephanie groused.

"Really?" Bucky said incredulously. "With what money? You barely have enough to get by as it is."

"And how is marriage the miracle fix to all my problems?" Stephanie asked in irritation, tossing the ring on the table with a clatter. She wasn't an idiot. She'd already thought of everything he was saying, and had quite sensibly decided to ignore it. There was nothing she could do about it so worrying wouldn't help. The best she could do was try as hard as possible to stay healthy.

"You'll have access to my bank account, you can use my money to hire someone to run errands and check in on you," Bucky said instantly, the speed of his answer suggesting he'd been thinking about this a significant amount of time, long enough to have his arguments formulated and memorized. "You can also move into my apartment. It's warmer, in a safer part of town and it's closer to your job."

Stephanie bristled. She wasn't a child in need of a parent. "I don't need your money, Bucky. I can take care of myself."

He slapped his hand on the table in aggravation and she jumped in surprise. "Damn it, Stephanie," he said through clenched teeth, "stop being stubborn for once and listen to me. Until now, you've always had someone here to back you up, me or one of your parents. The next time something goes south you won't have anyone here to help drag you out."

Stephanie folded her arms across her chest and focused on the wall past his head, her jaw set. He wasn't saying anything that wasn't true and she _hated_ it. She didn't want to be anyone's baggage, least of all his. If only her health were better, or she'd gotten accepted at one of the recruitment centers.

Taking her silence as a refusal, Bucky leaned back in his seat, let out a sigh that was nearly a groan and ran his hands through his hair in agitation. He was silent, clearly thinking, before leaning forward again. "Would you do it for me if our positions were reversed?" He locked eyes with her, challenging her to look him in the eye and lie.

Stephanie's attention jerked back to him, her eyes wide. He wouldn't. "Oh, you bastard," she breathed.

He most definitely would. His lips quirked in the barest hint of the cocky grin she was used to seeing on him. He'd just won and they both knew it. "Well, Steph?" he challenged. "Would you?"

Stephanie considered punching him but knew she'd only end up hurting her hand. Bucky, if possible, had a harder head than she did, the stubborn jerk. "You already know I would," she admitted, grudgingly, deeply annoyed she couldn't think of a way to counter the argument she could already see coming.

He gave an absolutely brilliant grin and then slumped in relief, crossing his arms on the table and dropping his head on them. "Alright," he said, lifting his head a few moments later. "Then do it for me." Damn him, Stephanie thought, glaring at him. He simply grinned back. "You can manage my affairs while I'm gone," he went on, "it'll benefit both of us. See?" he said raising his eyebrows at her. "You'll be helping me as much as I'm helping you."

"You shouldn't have to take care of me," Stephanie said shortly. "It's not your obligation."

"It's not an obligation," Bucky replied instantly, "it's a privilege." Stephanie felt her face heat in embarrassment and he gave her a wry look. "And don't go acting like it's one sided, Steph. You take care of me just as much. I wouldn't eat half as well without you around and don't think I haven't noticed my place never seems to need cleaning."

Cooking and cleaning, Stephanie thought with a sigh. She knew he meant well, intended his words to be a compliment, and they were, but was that all she could do for him? He'd been beaten up trying to save her in the past and, in return, she washed a few dishes for him every now and then? She wanted to do more, for him and the world at large. She wanted to fight alongside him, not sit at his kitchen table waiting and worrying. Women in the past, in other cultures, fought in battle. Why couldn't she?

Bucky reached out and Stephanie reluctantly allowed him to take her hand again. "Come on, Steph. It ain't like that," he said, reading the direction of her thoughts. "We look after each other. Always have, right? This is no different."

"How would it even work?" she asked in resignation, giving him a warning look to let him know she wasn't entirely giving in, not yet. It was the principle of the thing. "What if you're passing through some town over there and meet someone? It'd be pretty inconvenient to have an unwanted wife sitting back home."

"That's the beauty of it," Bucky said, excited now that she was coming around. "We'll get the marriage annulled when I get back. We'll say we did it spur of the moment when I got drafted and realized it was a mistake after I got back. Plenty of people are getting married right now before shipping out. How many you think will make it after the war ends?"

"Your optimism is underwhelming," Stephanie muttered. She pulled her hand free and dug her fingers into her temples, the beginnings of a headache coming on. "And you say I'm the one with harebrained schemes," she said finally with a sigh. She couldn't deny it would be great peace of mind to not have to face the winter nearly broke in a poorly insulated apartment. She also couldn't deny that Bucky's logic in wanting someone who could look after his affairs in person, someone he knew and trusted rather than impersonal banks or attorneys he barely knew, was also solid. The fact he was more concerned with her and less with himself didn't make his point any less valid.

She'd still rather fight, alongside him specifically but also as part of the larger effort, helping stand against the evil currently trying to march across the world. Her mind went to her failed attempts to enlist. She'd tried but it was clear that avenue simply wasn't open to her. So if this was the only way she could help and make a difference, it was something wasn't it?

"Fine," she said, lifting her eyes to meet his. "Let's get married. Romantic proposal by the way, very well done. I can see why you have so much success with the ladies."

"Thought you didn't like romance." He stood up and surprised her by dragging her out of the chair to lift her completely off her feet and hug her. She barely had a chance to return the embrace before he was setting her carefully down again, her hands on his arms to steady herself.

"Right," he said, the relief on his face convincing Stephanie she'd made the correct, albeit insane, decision. "We have a lot to do and not a lot of time to do it." He grabbed her hand. "Come on. Let's go get married."

***

She had no idea how he pulled it together in a single day, but pull it together he did.

Before she knew it she found herself signing a marriage license and standing before a justice of the peace down at the courthouse. Bucky wore his uniform and she'd dug out a nice dress. It wasn't a wedding dress by any stretch, just a simple blue one that was too cold for the late fall weather, but it was the best she had.

They exchanged vows, Stephanie stumbling slightly with guilt when she repeated the words "until death" because neither of them had any intention of being married that long, and then Bucky was sliding the ring onto her finger. He produced another for him and she managed to get it on his finger without dropping it from her shaking fingers. No doubt the man doing the ceremony thought it was typical wedding day jitters. In reality it was fear that they would be caught out at any moment, the same feeling she'd gotten every time she'd tried to enlist.

The justice started making closing remarks that she tuned out as she looked down at her hand, holding it out to study the band on her finger. Marriage was not something she'd ever particularly thought of, or even really wanted. She'd never considered herself the settling down type and, while she liked children, she wasn't particularly interested in having any of her own. Her dreams had always been to travel, see the world and make a difference, somehow, like her parents.

It wasn't like she'd really gotten married anyway, though, and besides, it was Bucky. He'd always encouraged her dreams, telling her she could do anything she wanted rather than insisting she had to conform to what society said she should be doing.

In fact, he --

It vaguely occurred to her the justice had stopped speaking. Bucky moved and, before she could process what was happening, he lightly grabbed her chin, nudged her head up, and kissed her.

And by kiss, she meant he _kissed_ her. It was not the sort of kiss a friend would give to another friend, or at least she didn't think it was. It wasn't as if she had any experience in the matter. Instead it was the sort that made her stomach twist into knots, a shiver run down her spine and had her toes curling inside her shoes. Without consciously thinking about it her arm slid around his waist and tugged, trying to pull him closer. He obediently stepped forward, his own arm sliding around her back and tangling in the fabric of her dress.

Clearly, Stephanie thought dimly, his popularity with the ladies had paid off in the romantic skills department.

Bucky pulled away and she gasped in a breath, giving him a bewildered look. He merely looked smug, the jerk, and turned away to grab the license, their coats, his hat and her purse.

 _Why_ had he done that? The memory of her pulling him closer flashed through her mind and she felt her face go red hot. Why had _she_ done that? Of course, in her defense, who wouldn't have reacted like that when getting kissed like... _that_?

Bucky turned back and there was no more time to think about it as he helped her with her coat, handed over her purse and then gallantly offered her his arm. "Shall we go, Mrs. Barnes?"

"Call me that again and I'll punch you," Stephanie said in a knee jerk reaction only to flinch and shoot a wide eyed look at the justice who, understandably, had a rather shocked expression on his face. Bucky merely gave the man a long-suffering look, put her hand on his bicep, tipped his hat to the man and escorted her outside.

As soon as they were on the sidewalk Stephanie pulled her arm free, shoved him in the shoulder, and demanded, "what the _hell_ was that?"

"Language," Bucky said dryly. He held out the marriage license and she took it and slid it inside her purse, along with his keys and wallet when he handed those over next. He always complained they were uncomfortable to carry in his pocket so she usually kept them for him. "Just trying to sell it." He studied her and frowned suddenly, his eyes narrowing. "Please tell me that wasn't your first."

Stephanie felt her face heat again and looked down in annoyance, pretending to make sure everything was arranged properly inside her purse. Bucky swore under his breath, a rarity for him though something she seemed to have been bringing out in him of late.

"I'm sorry, Steph. I should have asked you first."

"We were getting married," Steph muttered, "asking for permission to kiss your bride would have seemed a bit odd don't you think?" She huffed out a breath, desperately hoping her face would stop feeling like it was on fire. "It's fine. I was just surprised is all."

"At least I didn't screw it up for you, though, right?" Bucky asked, the slightest hint of a plea in his voice. "My first wasn't exactly memorable you know? I didn't know what I was doing and--"

Stephanie raised her head and gave him a withering look that had him clamping his mouth shut. "Too much information." Then, deciding to let him off the hook a little she frowned and said, "and I don't think you're a very good judge on whether or not it was any good."

His eyes narrowed. "You're saying I was bad at it?"

"How should I know?" Stephanie responded, her eyes wide and her voice practically dripping sweetness and light. "I have nothing to compare it to. For all I know you could be terrible."

He wasn't, she'd be willing to bet on it simply because she couldn't fathom what a good kiss would be if his wasn't it, but she wasn't about to tell _him_ that.

"I haven't heard any complaints," he growled, getting his gloves out and pulling them on.

"Probably just being polite," Stephanie said airily.

The look he gave her, by all rights, should have dropped her on the spot but she just smiled brightly at him.

"You should take that off," he said, nodding at her ring. "Your date might wonder."

She raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"Our double date for tonight, remember? We planned it a week ago."

"No, _you_ planned it a week ago," Stephanie grumbled. Bucky was always trying to set her up with people, she had no idea where he even found them. So far she'd had little interest in any of them and the feeling had been mutual. She doubted Bucky was all that interested in this particular date of his either, at least not that night. He hadn't mentioned the girl once since making it. He had, however, talked at length about the location they were supposed to go too, some exhibit of future technologies or whatever. Bucky was a huge fan of such things but always tried to pretend he wasn't. The thought brought a rush of sadness as she thought of him, a man so invested in visions of the future, being forced to go overseas to fight a war that might well rob him of his.

"Hey, now," Bucky said, gently tapping her on the head. "Stop thinking about tomorrow, alright?"

"Says the guy obsessed with the future," Stephanie managed to return with a laugh. She took her ring off and slid it into a small pocket on her wallet inside her purse. "You're not taking yours off?" she asked Bucky.

"Nah," he held up his now gloved hands. "Can't see it anyway and you know how bad I am at losing things."

He could always just give it to her to keep, Stephanie thought, but didn't push the issue. Instead she frowned at the now empty spot on her ring finger for a moment before looking back to Bucky. To her surprise, he was studying her with that same oddly intense look he'd had when he'd fake proposed to her. He reached under his collar and pulled out his dog tags, took them off and stepped forward to drape them over her head. They landed against her collarbone with a light clink of metal, the weight barely perceptible around her neck. "Do me a favor and keep those for me would you?" he asked. "I'll get them back when I come home."

"Won't you need them?" Stephanie asked and immediately flinched in horror as she remembered what the purpose of dog tags were.

He grinned. "Nah, I can always get more. I can't be the first guy who forgot to bring them, right?"

Carefully, Stephanie dropped the tags under her shirt so they were out of view. Bucky threw an arm around her shoulders and pulled her in the direction of his precious exhibit.

Stephanie went along, and tried to pretend it wasn't the last time she'd go anywhere with him for a long time, if ever.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my birthday and I felt like posting a new chapter to celebrate! I don't have one ready yet for HB or D3 so I give you a new one to this one! I hope you enjoy! :D :D

Bucky's date was a classic example of his type, all legs and curves with a tiny waist, bouncy hair and flawlessly applied makeup. Not that Stephanie was bitter because she wasn't. She already knew the amount of male attention she drew was somewhere between slim and Bucky, who counted only insofar as he was male, and had come to terms with it. Still, she had felt reasonably well put together, right up until Bucky's date, whose name Stephanie refused to remember, showed up. Now she felt downright frumpy. Her hair was still short and ragged from having cut it herself with somewhat blunt scissors; she wore no makeup as it was an expense she couldn't afford, and her off-the-rack dress fit poorly in comparison to the other girl's dress, which clung to her figure in all the right ways as if it had been custom made for her body. It probably had been.

She didn't usually care about Bucky's dates but couldn't help feeling resentment toward this one. When Bucky had made the date he hadn't realized he'd be receiving his orders. Had he known Stephanie had no doubt he'd have cancelled the date to spend the evening with her. As it was, he hadn't known and then, in the rush of getting things done, they'd both forgotten until it was too late to cancel. Stephanie knew it wasn't the other girl's fault but she couldn't help but feel the girl was horning in on what, by all rights, should have been her night with her best friend. Every time the girl acted like Stephanie was the unwanted third wheel, which was often, or tried to monopolize Bucky's attention it grated on Stephanie's nerves to the point she wanted to snap that Bucky had been her friend since childhood and she didn't appreciate a near stranger acting like she had the slightest right to him. It was petty and unfair but it had been a long day and Stephanie was looking at saying good-bye to her best friend and then a long period of constant worry over whether he was alright or not, all of which made it difficult to feel charitable or try to see it from the other woman's point of view.

It was possible Bucky felt the same, at least in part, as he spent more time on trying to see every single exhibit or demonstration rather than on his date. Every so often he would turn to Stephanie to ensure she was having a good time, drawing a smile from her and a glare from his date. She kept clinging to his arm and telling him how heroic and brave he was heading off to war. Bucky played it up as he always did but Stephanie saw the way he ran from place to play like a kid at Christmas and knew it belayed the calm indifference with which he'd been treating being shipped out.

Stephanie began to tire after a bit but kept it hidden, slipping into the charade with the ease of long practice. She'd always hated worrying her family, or Bucky, and hated even more being the weak link, the one dragging the others back with her energy running out far before theirs did. She'd gotten good at pretending she was merely engrossed in something, her steps lagging from interest and not fatigue. She did the same now, trailing along slowly behind the others, pretending to be carefully studying something every time Bucky looked back to check on her.

He was the only one who checked to make sure she was still there, the guy he'd gotten as her date was far more interested in Bucky's date than he was in Stephanie. He was a non-descript banker named Doug with short blond hair and an ill-fitting suit, whose disappointment upon meeting Stephanie had been matched only by Stephanie's absolute indifference to him. She wasn't interested in dating and, even if she had been, Doug was not her type. She always found herself attracted to tall, solidly built brunettes. Personality wise, she'd never settle for anything less than a man who didn't mind her being headstrong and independent and who supported her desire to get out, see the world and make a difference. As guys like that were few and far between, from what she'd seen anyway, it seemed her best bet would be to stay single, which she was perfectly fine with. Better single and happy than married and miserable as her husband tried to shove her into whatever box he, and society, believed she belonged in.

Bucky's date eventually grew bored and announced she wanted to go dancing. By this time Bucky had already seen just about everything and readily agreed, as did Stephanie when he asked her. Once they found a place she'd get something to drink, find a quiet corner and relax while he enjoyed himself.

As they started to head toward the exit, Stephanie still lagging behind, she caught sight of the large enlistment building set in the center of the square. It was large and probably the fanciest one she'd seen. Clearly the Army was trying to take advantage of the event, the sign was massive and prominently displayed, the front entrance a hall filled with framed photographs showcasing soldiers proudly serving their country. At the front was a gimmick, a glass mirror with a faceless soldier etched on it. Standing on a plate turned on a light behind the glass, casting the person's face under the helmet and giving the illusion that they were the soldier standing at the ready.

Stephanie stepped forward and stood on the plate. A click sounded, and her face appeared a full foot below where it should have been to let her see herself as a soldier. She sighed and stepped back, only to flinch in surprise as she bumped into a muscled chest behind her.

"I don't think they come in your size," Bucky's voice said in her ear, even as his hands landed on her shoulders to steady her. "What are you doing, Stephanie?"

There was an edge to his voice, an accusatory tone that suddenly made Stephanie think Bucky hadn't been nearly as oblivious to her attempts to enlist as she'd hoped he'd be. Every so often Bucky would let her go ahead with a scheme, knowing beforehand it was doomed and that, stubborn as she was, the only way to get her to see it was to let her try, and fail, on her own.

She spun to face him, spotting his date and Doug standing several feet away. "I was just playing with it," she said, trying her best to imitate the pout his date was currently wearing.

Bucky's eyes narrowed. "Are you feeling alright?"

Stephanie rolled her eyes. "I'm fine."

He didn't look convinced. He frowned past her, then moved his hands to her upper arms and stepped forward, into her space. Stephanie stepped back automatically only to have him repeat the action, backing her up until Doug and what's-her-name were out of earshot. Ironically, the action sent the two of them deeper into the enlistment center. Several people nodded to Bucky as they walked by, noting his uniform, and he greeted them in turn before focusing his attention on her. "What are you doing?" he hissed through clenched teeth.

Damn, he wasn't letting it go. Anyone else would have simply dismissed it for exactly what she said it was, playing around. Bucky, unfortunately, was far too intelligent for his own good, and knew her far too well for her own good.

"I said I was just playing with it, didn't I?" she said, her voice sharp. "I don't have to explain myself to you. You're not my father."

That was...that was a terrible argument, her mind informed her matter-of-factly, and also one guaranteed to raise his suspicions even more. She was simply awful at lying. She was good at hiding things, but when asked point blank she always folded like a cheap suit, guilt effectively shutting her brain down in protest.

"No," Bucky growled, his jaw clenching the way it did when he knew she was trying, and failing, to lie to him. "I'm your husband."

"Really?" Stephanie asked in disbelief, "you're going with that?" She had no intention of letting him play the husband card whenever it suited him, certainly not when the marriage wasn't even legitimate. She looked pointedly past him at the girl currently watching them with impatience. "You mention that to your date? Most couples don't go on dates where they're dating another person." A trace of bitterness entered her voice as she finished. It was Bucky's last night, her resentment over having to share him at all on his last night before shipping out still strong.

"It's a double date," Bucky shot back, "one that you agreed to a week ago and that we both forgot about until it was too late to cancel. Standing them up would have been rude."

Stephanie gave him a disbelieving look. "Since when have you given a rat's ass about being rude?"

"Language," Bucky said, without thinking, and Stephanie shook her head in exasperation. Bucky was forever trying to get her to watch her language. The thought brought a rush of affection and, just like that, fighting with him the evening before he shipped out was suddenly the absolute last thing she wanted.

She stepped forward, wrapped her arms around him and rested her head on his chest. It wasn't entirely appropriate but, as usual, she really didn't care.

"It isn't fair," she said, her voice quiet. "So many are dying." She felt his arms slide around her waist in return and looked up to meet his eyes. "Some without even the choice to say no. Why should I be any different just because I'm a woman?"

"You've got nothing to prove," Bucky said, the heat drained out of his voice. "Not to anyone."

She sighed and dropped her forehead against his chest, looking down at their shoes sitting almost toe to toe with each other. "What if I want to prove something to myself?" It wasn't a lie. She did want to prove something to herself. She wanted to make a difference, protect the world against evil, protect _Bucky_ , and she wanted to prove she wasn't a dead weight, always needing to be protected by those stronger than she was.

"Hey, Sarge!" What's-her-name shouted from behind them, her voice impatient. "Are we going dancing or what?"

Bucky looked startled and Stephanie wondered if he'd completely forgotten they weren't alone. He carefully disengaged from her and spun around, throwing his arms out and injecting false cheer into his voice. "Of course we are." He faced her again, put his hands on her shoulders, and locked eyes with her. "When I get back," he promised, "I will take you anywhere you want to go, do anything you want. You want to go to Egypt and break into the pyramids? Fine, we'll do it. Whatever you have to do to prove whatever it is you think you need to prove. Just wait, alright? Please. Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone."

"How can I?" Stephanie said, putting on an air of equally false cheer and echoing words she'd spoken before. "You'll be taking all the stupid with you."

He chuckled and Stephanie reached up to grip his forearms before he could pull away.

"I'm tired, Bucky. I think I want to go home, alright?" There was the slightest of a plea in her voice, which was annoying, but she truly was exhausted. Her father had once commented that she had the spirit of a racehorse in the body of a senior citizen. What he, and no one else, could understand was how imminently _frustrating_ it was to have her body give out on her long before she was ready to stop.

"We can cut it short," Bucky said immediately but she shook her head.

"No, you go ahead. You should have as much fun as you can."

While you can. The words were unspoken but hung in the air between them regardless.

"Alright," Bucky stepped back. "I'll see you to a cab."

"I'll be fine," Stephanie said in exasperation. "No one will bother me. All the men are overseas anyway."

“Except me," Bucky said, his usual, cocky grin reappearing on his face as his mood improved. He gestured toward her purse and she handed it to him, letting him get his wallet and keys out.

"That just shows how desperate they must be," she retorted.

He was sliding his wallet into his pocket but paused to look up at her. "You're a punk, you know that?"

"And you're a jerk," Stephanie said in return.

He grinned and slung an arm across her shoulders, calling back to his date that they'd go dancing after seeing Stephanie off. He seemed unconcerned about what Doug did. Stephanie doubted he'd failed to notice how the other man had been behaving.

As they headed toward the street Bucky's date couldn't seem to decide if she was excited to see Stephanie go or if she was annoyed at Bucky having an arm around Stephanie. The other girl finally settling for hanging onto Bucky's other arm while sending triumphant glares toward Stephanie.

Stephanie looked back at the other woman steadily and then casually wrapped an arm around Bucky's waist, hooking her fingers in his belt loops and pulling herself closer to him, an action which caused Bucky to unconsciously tighten his grip in turn. The action nearly drove the other girl apoplectic with rage but Stephanie simply smiled and looked away. She didn't honestly care one way or the other about the other girl's jealousy on a romantic level, but the girl's actions continued to annoy her. She'd known Bucky her entire life while little Miss Possessive had known him all of a couple hours. She was probably being petty yet again, Stephanie acknowledged to herself, but she was only human after all so she decided to magnanimously forgive herself

They reached the curb and Bucky hailed a cab. When one pulled over he stepped forward and held the door open for her. Stephanie shook her head in amusement as he gallantly handed her into the car and then leaned through the front window to give the driver the address, and probably hand over money. Stephanie let him, too tired to argue over who paid.

Outside the window, Stephanie saw the other girl smirking and wondered what she would say if Stephanie informed her that she was heading to Bucky's apartment. There had been no time yet to get rid of her own apartment, or to move her things into his place, but she would be doing so in the coming days. There was no sense in paying for two places when she'd only be in one after all. They hadn't talked about how they'd work things out once Bucky came back but she knew he wouldn't just throw her out, even if he did come back with a girl he met overseas, so she'd have time to figure it out then.

Bucky shut her door and stepped back, tossing her a jaunty salute as he did. Stephanie laughed at his antics and waved as the cab slowly pulled away from the curb. Looking back, she saw Bucky headed back into the crowd, his date grabbing his arm and dragging it across her shoulders as they went. Stephanie's date was still doggedly following behind, his optimism apparently unwavering.

Stephanie sighed and relaxed, dropping her head back against the seat, and letting her eyes fall shut. She didn't like thinking about the fact that the hours were rapidly counting down and soon she wouldn't be waiting for Bucky to come home from dancing, but from war.

She hated waiting.

For not the first time she felt a surge of regret over not being able to talk her way into the military where she could have gone and fought alongside him but there was nothing to be done for it. She'd tried, repeatedly, and failed. Now she'd chosen a different path, promising Bucky she'd keep his affairs in order in return for his promise to help her find her place in the world when he returned.

If he returned.

The sensation of the cab slowing caught her attention and she frowned, her eyes opening.

"Why are we stopping?" she asked. There was no way they'd been driving long enough to reach Bucky's street.

"Sorry, Miss," the driver said, "don't think I have much choice in it."

He pointed outside the car and Stephanie felt a jolt of fear at the sight of a car, the words military police, emblazoned on the side, pulling to a stop in front of them. A glance out the back showed another one behind them.

As she watched, the door opened to the car in front of them and a man in uniform got out. Stephanie felt dread settle into her bones. Had someone recognized her at the recruitment center?

The soldier opened her door and leaned over. "Ma'am?" he asked, "would you come with me please?"

Stephanie froze. She didn't have to obey did she? Did the military have the right to act like the police and stop and detain citizens? She shot a look at the driver and saw immediately he was going to be no help, his eyes fixed straight ahead.

"Ma'am?" the soldier repeated and Stephanie sighed, taking a deep breath to center herself.

She edged forward and the man moved to let her out. Once she was standing on the street she allowed the man to escort her to the other vehicle where he opened the passenger door for her. Stephanie got in, mentally hoping the fact she was riding in the front and not the back seat was a good sign, and he shut the door.

A moment later he slid into the driver's seat, started the engine and pulled away from the curb.

Stephanie waited, but when he didn't speak, she carefully cleared her throat and asked, "Where are we going?"

He didn't answer and she scowled, wrapping her arms around her chest. The last thing she wanted was to be arrested, and certainly not the night before Bucky shipped out. Just the mental picture of how disappointed in her he'd be, and how worried, made guilt crash on her like a lead weight. She would ask them to wait, she decided, not for her but for Bucky's sake. Just until he shipped out and then she'd turn herself in and they could arrest her.

The exhibition came into view and she watched as they parked near the recruitment center. The soldier who'd driven her got out, came to her side, opened the door and offered his hand to help her down.

Stephanie accepted the help with a nod of thanks and quietly followed him inside, her arms wrapped around herself and desperately trying to pretend she was shaking from cold and not fear. Somewhat to her surprise she was not led to a cell, if the centers even had those, but an exam room where she was directed to sit on the small cot. She did so and the soldier took up a stance at the entrance.

It was nearly five minutes later that the curtain drew back and an older man in a white lab coat walked in. He nodded at the soldier who immediately turned and walked out.

The older man smiled at her but Stephanie was too sick with fear and worry to respond.

The man picked up a clipboard she hadn't noticed sitting on a table and handed it to her. Stephanie looked at it, and felt her heart stop at the sight of her enlistment forms, all five of them, clipped to it.

"So," the man said, his voice heavily accented, "you want to kill Nazis?"

 


	4. Chapter 4

Stephanie opened her mouth and then shut it again as she struggled to think of a response. She couldn't just say anything, it needed to be the right answer, the one that would keep her out of prison if such an outcome was even possible.

"Do you want to kill Nazis?" the man asked again. He was older, with white flyaway hair and stubble and looked more like a scientist than someone in the military.

Stephanie swallowed, her throat dry. "Is this a test?" Were they trying to find out if she was violent? Crazy? Or something else entirely?

"Yes," came the simple answer and her heart rate spiked again. She glanced toward the exit but doubted, if she ran, that she could make it out of the center before being caught. She tended to run out of breath easily, she'd probably make it five steps. Not to mention they clearly already knew who she was and could just show up at her front door, or Bucky's front door in this case which was ten thousand times worse.

"I don't want to kill anyone," she said finally. Refusing to answer would probably just get her thrown in prison. At least, at the moment, he was waiting for an answer. If she could just figure out the right combination of words, the right thing to say. She took a deep breath, her mind racing. "I just hate bullies." That was easy enough to prove. Her history with bullies was long and well established in her neighborhood. The thought passed through her mind that they could question Bucky about it and she mentally cringed, praying they didn't.

She tried desperately to think of something else to add, something deep and profound and worthy of not being sent to prison, but her mind decided it had helped enough and proceeded to go completely blank. Giving up, she clenched her hands in her lap and waited anxiously as the man studied her, his face unhelpfully blank.

Finally, he started talking. His name, Stephanie found out, was Dr. Abraham Erskine and, much to her shock and everlasting relief, he wasn't there to arrest the insane woman who'd tried five times to pass herself off as a man to try and join the war effort. It would have been nice, Stephanie thought in irritation, for him to mention all that before she'd nearly had a heart attack but, for once, she decided silence was the better option and kept her peace.

Erskine had apparently overheard her talking to Bucky earlier and had been impressed. She had no idea how they'd identified her so quickly, or connected all her other enlistment efforts but, again, now was probably not the best time to start demanding answers. "There are already so many big men fighting this war," he told her, his tone excited. "Maybe what we need now is a woman, ja?"

Stephanie blinked at him in surprise. Had she given him an idea to let a woman join and fight? "You think you can convince them to take a woman?" she asked, her tone disbelieving. If he knew about her attempts, then he knew they'd all failed spectacularly. Even if he could find a woman in top physical health, a female version of Bucky to parade about on camera and in the field, she doubted the people in charge would ever let her join.

"Ah," he said, "that is where it will be complicated I'm afraid. I do have some power in who I choose for my program but I fear there are those who will be far too shortsighted to see what I do when I look at you."

Program? Stephanie thought. What program? He hadn't mentioned anything like that had he? Then the rest of what he'd said registered and shock rattled through her, followed closely by the desire to scream in frustration. He wanted to help _her_ enlist? The help she'd been waiting for, the chance she'd been hoping for, and it was offered _now._ Now, when she'd given up and set out on another path.

"It will be hard to convince them," Erskine was saying, "given your size, but it can be done. As for the rest," here he made a vague gesture at her that she figured was meant to encompass her female attributes, or lack thereof. "We shall have to be...creative. You will enlist as Steve Rogers, and will be housed in my lab. We shall say your parents are quite wealthy and donated heavily to my experiments in order to ensure your every comfort."

Stephanie squeezed her eyes shut, fighting against the excitement raging in her veins. He was offering her everything she wanted, literally _everything_ and exactly as she'd planned to go about getting it. Helping her enlist as a man, protecting her, making it a potential reality instead of the delusion she'd convinced herself it had been.

And he was doing it _now. After_ she'd given her word to Bucky to help him, after she'd _married_ him to protect his interests while he was gone.

Why... _why_ did it have to come _now_?

"I can't," she got out through gritted teeth, the words painful to speak and wrenched from her throat. "I'm sorry." She gripped the edge of the bed, her fingers digging into the mattress. She forced her eyes open and saw him looking at her in confusion.

"No?" he said. "But why?" He grabbed her enlistment forms and held them up. "You have been trying all along, ja?"

"I have," Stephanie agreed, resigned. "But...my friend is going." She left out the marriage, hoping to put some distance between her and Bucky. It was still possible Erskine could decide to have her arrested, especially now that she'd refused. The last thing she wanted was for anyone to decide Bucky was somehow involved and go after him too. "I promised him," she said, her voice flat, "that I'd look after his affairs while he was gone. I can't let him down."

Erskine waved a hand dismissively. "That is easy enough to fix. I can see to it your friend's affairs are protected while you are gone."

"I--" Stephanie stumbled, her mind at war with itself. She _wanted_ to go, she did. But it was insane, even for her, and the odds of it working were slim. Going was a dream of hers but, as a dream, it wasn't something she'd genuinely, _truly_ believed would happen. Now that it did all the ways it was impossible, and could go horribly wrong were presenting themselves. Chief amongst them was the fact that, if she did fail, then Bucky would undoubtedly find out and she had no doubt he'd feel angry, and betrayed. The only reason he'd married her was to keep her safe and so she could keep his affairs safe in return. Going and being in danger, and leaving his things in the hands of another, it would be as if she'd married him under false pretenses.

But, on the other hand, the marriage itself had been done under false pretenses hadn't it? And she wouldn't be touching any of his property or money while he was gone, so it wouldn't be as if she were benefitting from the marriage or taking advantage of it.

She really, _really_ wanted to go. To prove she could take care of herself as she was always insisting to Bucky, and that she could take care of others the way he'd always taken care of her. She did want to stand up to bullies, and Hitler and the Nazis _were_ the biggest bullies of all.

She frowned at Erskine. "You really think you could pull off something like that forever? That no one would ever find out the truth?"

There was the slightest plea in his voice, the almost desperate hope he would change his mind and tell her it was impossible. It would be the easier route, the safer one where she would never have to face the prospect or failure or of seeing the look of betrayal and disappointment in Bucky's eyes.

"Oh, I imagine they certainly will," Dr. Erskine replied. He grinned broadly, clearly very pleased with himself, "but by then it will be too late to do anything about it. Now," he stepped forward and offered his hand, "do you wish to try, or not?"

Stephanie froze, so torn within herself she was literally paralyzed and, after a few seconds, Erskine lowered his hand. Stephanie felt her heart jump in her chest but couldn't say if it was from relief or disappointment.

"It is a lot to take in," Erskine said, his voice compassionate. "I can give you twelve hours, ja? You make a decision and then let me know."

Stephanie felt herself nodding and sagged on the cot, relief flooding her. "Thank you."

There was nothing really to say after that. Erskine, understandably, didn't want to say anything more to her before knowing if she was planning to commit which meant there was also nothing much she could say to him.

He told her how to contact him and then she was being taken outside and shown back to the curb to hail another cab.

She sat in the backseat, her hands folded in her lap and struggled to believe that what had just transpired _had,_ in fact, transpired and wasn't some bizarre figment of her imagination.

She could feel Bucky's dog tags like a heavy weight on her chest. Erskine had promised Bucky's affairs would be taken care of but she still couldn't shake the feeling that she would be betraying him if she said yes.

Equally as strong, however, was the conviction she would be betraying herself if she said no.

***

She made it to Bucky's apartment in record time and was curled up in a blanket on the couch, half asleep, when she heard his key in the lock. Boots thumped across the wooden floorboards, followed by the sound of his hat being tossed on the table.

The couch dipped and then he was sliding his arms under her and picking her up, blanket and all.

"I said I'd take the couch," he said in exasperation, knowing full well she was awake. "You are without a doubt the most bull-headed person I've ever met."

Stephanie gave a drowsy laugh and worked her arms free from the blanket to wrap around his neck, resting her head on his shoulder. "You must not be looking in enough mirrors then."

He chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest, and carried her into the bedroom. He laid her on the bed, sliding his arms out from under her back to brace on either side of her as he started to pull away. Stephanie reached up and lightly grabbed the lapel of his jacket and he stopped, his face only a foot or so above her.

"How was dancing?" Stephanie murmured, the sentence ending on a yawn.

He hadn't turned the light on so all she could see was a shadowy presence over her.

"It was fine," he said. "Would have been better if you'd been there."

"Next time," she promised. Almost absently she moved her arms to link loosely around his neck, interlacing her fingers at the base of his skull. Dimly her mind informed her that such an action wasn't necessarily how friends treated one another but she was too tired to give it much thought and Bucky didn't seem to mind so she dismissed it. "Don't forget to wake me up tomorrow. I want to see you off." She yawned again and moved one hand to cover her mouth, wrapping the other more securely around the nape of his neck. "Otherwise you won't have anyone to wave to and people will think you're pathetic."

He laughed outright and then leaned forward to kiss her lightly on the forehead. "I'll wake you up," he promised. "I wasn't much looking forward to going alone anyway."

He stood up, tugging free from her grip, and she heard him go to the closet to grab a change of clothing, a feat considering he did it in the dark. After that he left the room and Stephanie rolled onto her side and listened to him getting changed and settling down on the couch. The thing was much too small for him to fit comfortably and she heard the squeak of old springs as he gave it his best effort. He finally stopped moving and the other room fell quiet.

Stephanie got up, pulling the blanket close around her shoulders, and padded into the living room. She slid the blanket off and spread it on the floor next to the couch and then dropped down on it, letting her entire body relax into the floor.

Her mind was still swirling and she stared blankly into the darkness. A large part of her didn't even believe it had really happened. Surely it was just a cruel trick. Erskine was so offended by her trying to enlist he'd decided to teach her a lesson. If she went back and agreed he'd mock her, or even have her arrested. He could even be mentally unstable, assuring her that he could trick the army into thinking she was a man and that she would be a good candidate in spite of her lack of physical health. Of course she was every bit as unstable for having thought the same herself so who was she to judge?

Or, on the other hand, maybe he was telling the truth. Maybe it was all real and he was offering her the chance she'd been wanting, to get out and help make a difference, preferably alongside Bucky once he forgave her and started speaking to her again.

If he forgave her and started speaking to her again.

She drifted to sleep eventually and when she woke up the next morning Bucky had moved her back to the bed again, proving the claim her mother had always made that Stephanie could sleep through anything.

By mutual, unspoken agreement, they pretended nothing was wrong that morning. They ate breakfast, she helped him pack his duffle which, unsurprisingly, he'd procrastinated doing and then they took a cab to the train station. Stephanie had an uncomfortable, clenching feeling in her stomach as she faced the reality of him leaving and she sat stiffly, trying to control her own anxiety.

The platform was filled with soldiers preparing to leave and their loved ones there to say good-bye. The mood was somber and Stephanie saw many a teary eye as parents, spouses and siblings bade their soldiers farewell. Seeing she wouldn't be out of place for it, Stephanie wrapped her arms around Bucky's waist and didn't let go until the train arrived and she had no choice.

"Be careful," she told him as he got on the train, forcing a smile.

He saluted her, that same cocky look affixed firmly to his face, and then turned and walked on the train, quickly lost in the mass of soldiers boarding. Stephanie felt the loss instantly, feeling suddenly very alone even in the midst of a sea of people.

The crowd, primarily women and children, jostled about her as they strained to catch a final glimpse of their loved one. Most were clinging to one another, parents, wives with their children, siblings.

She couldn't see if Bucky was one of the dozens of soldiers leaning out the windows to get in a final good-bye as the train pulled away, the whistle echoing through the station, but it didn't matter. She stood on the platform and waved until the train was completely out of sight, and then continued to stand there until the platform around her was empty, her eyes fixed on the curve the train had vanished around.

It was only when she finally turned to leave that she realized she wasn't as alone as she'd thought. There was another woman, older than her, with dark hair and a tired expression. She was sitting on a bench set against the wall, her hands folded in her lap and her purse sitting next to her.

"Are you waiting for the next train?" Stephanie asked.

The woman gave her a small smile. "Yes," she said. "My son may be on it."

Stephanie smiled back. "That's nice. Has he been gone long?"

"A while," the woman replied. Her eyes went back to the tracks. "He'll be back soon, no matter what my husband says." She nodded to herself. "He'll come back."

Stephanie hesitated, a feeling of disquiet settling over her. "What did your husband say?" she asked, even as her mind told her she should leave it alone.

The woman pursed her lips and frowned. "He says my Johnny isn't coming back, not ever again, but he's wrong." Her eyes grew misty but she put her chin up and set herself, fighting back the tears. She readjusted her stance on the bench, clearly settling in for an extended period. "He's coming back," she said, more to herself than Stephanie. She nodded. "I just have to wait."

Stephanie looked back toward the curve where Bucky's train had vanished and then toward the woman again. A sharp stab of fear lanced through her and she swallowed past a sudden rock lodged in her throat.

She said good-bye quietly and left, leaving the other woman to her silent vigil.

As Stephanie left she felt her stomach begin to settle, her own chin raise, her back straighten and her hands clench into fists. The further she got the surer her steps became, leading her toward the street where she could hail a taxi.

She hadn't been sure the night before where she'd go after the train station but there was no question in her mind now.

She was going to speak to Erskine.

Bucky wasn't leaving her behind.

And she damn well wasn't leaving him.

 


	5. Chapter 5

She didn't leave immediately.

Dr. Erskine gave her a few days to get things in order and to also see that Bucky's affairs were taken care of. She packed up everything from her small apartment and moved it in boxes to Bucky's. She didn't bother unpacking them, just stacked them all up in an unused room he had in the back. She added their wedding certificate and almost threw in her ring, only to change her mind at the last second and keep it. She didn't want to wear it, her hope still to keep some distance between her and Bucky in the event things blew up in her face, but he'd had his when he left and she felt wrong leaving hers behind.

Dr. Erskine introduced her to a man he'd gotten to watch over Bucky's place, and also get rid of hers. He would collect any mail for either her or Bucky and keep it until they got back. The man looked as she imagined a spy would but denied it when asked, of course. He promised the place would be in flawless condition when she got back, looking her straight in the eye and shaking her hand with a firm grip.

She didn't eat the day she left, her stomach tied in too many knots to get anything down. Instead she simply packed a bag and made her way to the train station once again. She'd cut her hair even shorter than before and wore clothing a size too big to hide what few curves she did have. She'd taped her almost non-existent breasts down to truly non-existent, ensuring that even were someone to stumble and fall against her they'd be unlikely to feel anything that might give her away.

And so Stephanie Barnes faded away somewhere on that train platform and Steve Rogers was born.

And as the train pulled out of the station, leaving the only home she'd ever known behind her, and as it set in that she was really, truly, actually _doing_ this, Stephanie could only think of one, inescapable, truth.

Bucky was absolutely going to kill her when he found out.

***

Boot camp...was pretty much what she expected.

The other soldiers weren't happy with her, mainly due to her perceived special status in sleeping in Dr. Erskine's lab, and not because of her size. It was oddly refreshing, if still annoying.

Many acted as if she simply didn't exist. They didn't look at her, didn't respond to her if she asked a question, got up and moved if she sat near them.

Others made snide comments, usually under their breath, when she was nearby. That sort of thing she was more used too. Usually she'd have responded back with something snide, or outright gone after them, but she was in the military and expected to behave so she held herself back, with considerable effort. There was also the fact she was supposed to be male and the less she stood out the less risk of being found out, at least until Dr. Erskine did whatever he planned to do that he promised would make her gender irrelevant. It was hard. She couldn't even verbally respond to the bullying because it would risk escalating the problem, and because no matter how much she tried to deepen her voice when she spoke it still sounded jarringly female to her ears. So not only did she have to let others aggravate her, she had to stay quiet about it. Bucky would have been doubled over with laughter, once he'd finished dealing with the bullies and yelling at her for being there in the first place.

The only real problem she had was with one soldier and his cronies. Gilmore Hodge was not only a bully; he was proud of it. On her first day, lining up with the other new recruits, he spotted her and gave her the same look a predator would prey. Normally Stephanie would have met his gaze head on but she'd forced herself to focus on the ground, trying her best to not draw unnecessary attention to herself.

A car pulled up and she raised her head just in time to see the door open and a woman get out. Not just any woman either, she found out soon after, but _Agent_ Peggy Carter.

 _Agent_. Not secretary or assistant or coffee courier, _Agent._

And, even better, she proceeded to punch Hodge in the face after he mouthed off, an action which caused Stephanie to snort in laughter without meaning to. She immediately directed her attention to the ground to try and hide it but looked up a few seconds later to see Carter giving her an amused, and downright conspiratorial, look in return.

Stephanie decided right then and there that she quite liked Peggy Carter. She did not entirely like Colonel Phillips, who arrived alongside Agent Carter. That was mainly because, like so many others, he took one look at her and only saw what was on the surface, dismissing her as insignificant and moving on.

She hated being dismissed.

He informed them all that the goal of the program was to create a super soldier. She didn't know what that meant, exactly, and put it out of mind as he went on to say that there would only be one chosen for the program, and that choosing would take place in exactly one week.

 _One_ person.

 _One_ week.

One week to prove she was better than the long, long line of men she was lined up alongside. Her eyes found Dr. Erskine, who'd shown up at some point, and she felt a momentary burst of frustration at him for not telling her it was a competition, or that she'd only have one week.

The emotion faded as she acknowledged it probably wouldn't have changed anything. The time limit, in the end, was something of a relief. The last thing she wanted was to spend months training while Bucky was in harm's way. The faster she got through, the faster she could join him.

It was only later that night that Stephanie realized just how important the week would truly be. She'd enlisted. Once the week was over, if she wasn't chosen, it wasn't as if her enlistment papers would vanish and she could just go home. The men not chosen would probably be sent to the infantry, which was not an option for her. There was no possible way she could pretend to be a man long term, not without help from someone like Dr. Erskin. She doubted he would continue to protect her after the week was up. The first time she was hurt, the first time her clothing got torn or she tried to take a shower without being seen...she'd be caught, and arrested. No going back home to sit in Bucky's apartment and worry about him. She'd be more concerned with how long a prison term she would get, not to mention her reputation would be utterly destroyed. She could see her story making the news and could imagine the conclusions people would come to about why she'd really wanted to go and be surrounded by so many men. What she'd really been doing with them, unchaperoned.

She simply could not fail.

Bucky was always talking about how stubborn she was.

Time to prove it.

***

They didn't make it easy on her, and by "they" she meant Hodge and his cronies.

They tripped her while running, kicked her off ropes while climbing, knocked barbed wire onto her when she was trying to climb through mud.

She finally got a chance to show them up about midway through the week. They were on a run, or most of them were anyway. She was trailing about a dozen or so yards behind them, trying her hardest to simply stay on her feet. She wasn't small _just_ because she was female after all. It was rare that she acknowledged to herself just how truly awful her health was, but this week was certainly bringing it home. Being forced to run with a massive pack of supplies on her back was quite effectively trying to kill her.

As they rounded a curve she caught sight of a car parked on the road. Agent Carter was in the passenger seat, twisted around to watch them.

The drill sergeant called a halt and Stephanie stumbled to a stop, keeping upright through sheer force of will. Her legs were shaking wildly and, every few seconds, one of them would start to buckle and she'd have to focus on not going down to her knees.

The sergeant reached into a pocket. He pulled out a small ball, tossed it in the air and caught it again.

"Alright," he shouted, "right now we are at the halfway point of our run."

Stephanie suppressed a groan. She was definitely going to die.

He tossed the ball up again. "First one to find this and bring it back gets a ride to base with Agent Carter. Ready, go!" With that he pulled his arm back and then flung it forward, in the direction of a large, overgrown field just off the path. Immediately everyone broke ranks and sprinted into the grass, bending over to search frantically for the ball.

"What are you waiting for, Rogers?" the sergeant barked. "Get a move on."

Sliding her hands under the straps of her pack, Stephanie hefted it on her shoulders and walked behind him to the field on the other side of the road, slowly so she didn't fall flat on her face from exhaustion. She knelt just off the path on that side and picked up the ball from where the Sergeant had tossed it after palming it to his other hand and hiding it behind his back. She clenched her teeth, knowing eyes were on her, and managed to push upright in one, relatively smooth move. She handed the ball to the sergeant, nodded and then, with a sigh of relief, marched over to Agent Carter's car.

The other woman gave her a brilliant grin, which Stephanie returned as she tossed her pack in the back and clambered up. The urge to collapse was intense but she kept herself together, not wanting the others to see any sign of weakness from her.

She could clearly see the look of shock on the Sergeant's face, and the face of her comrades, as they drove away.

Truly, it was a highlight of her training.

***

In the end, she survived the week, a feat to be proud of in itself. Every night she collapsed on a small cot in the corner of the equally tiny building Dr. Erskine used for an office, convinced she couldn't make it another day. She would fall asleep clutching Bucky's dog tags together with the her own, that she'd been given on her first day, and would wake up to find red marks on her palms from how hard she'd held them. She was stiff and sore every day, sometimes in so much pain she had to clench her teeth to keep from crying out with every movement but she made it, somehow, day by day until finally she reached the end.

Not that Colonel Phillips gave the slightest leeway even then. He pushed them just as hard that last day as any other. Halfway through, Stephanie found herself doing jumping jacks with the conviction her internal organs were going to liquefy any second.

It was right about then that Colonel Phillips decided to toss a grenade into their midst with a helpful shout of "grenade!", as if they didn't have eyes in their heads and wouldn't know what it was on their own.

Everyone scattered, throwing themselves over cars and boxes in their haste to get away, except for Stephanie and Agent Carter. Stephanie, by this time, was five stages past exhausted and literally didn't have it in her to move fast, let alone do any running or diving. She was looking at the Colonel and Dr. Erskine and noticed immediately that, while both did possess enough energy to move, neither was making any effort to do so.

So, praying desperately that she was correct, she made her way toward the grenade instead of away from it. Agent Carter had started for it as well but Stephanie beat her there simply by virtue of it nearly landing at her feet. She picked it up. Some might have called the action brave. Bucky would have called it asinine, reckless, foolhardy and dumb, assuming he could get all the words out. There was nothing that could render him speechless faster than Stephanie doing something stupid that he considered life threatening. He usually got over the speechlessness pretty fast, however, so she'd have certainly heard it eventually.

Agent Carter froze and Stephanie stared at the device in her hand and then looked up to where the Colonel and Dr. Erskine still hadn't moved.

Still clutching the device, she walked forward and held it out to Colonel Phillips. "With all due respect, sir," she stated, "we're no good to you dead and I don't think you spent the last week training us only to blow us up at the finish line."

Dr. Erskine was beaming. Colonel Phillips just looked disgruntled. He snatched the dummy grenade from her hand and glared at Dr. Erskine. "He's still skinny," he muttered before walking past them and back into the camp.

Stephanie nodded respectfully to Dr. Erskine and got back in line.

Her mind conjured up an image of the last time Bucky had saved her, dragging her out of an alley where she'd gotten herself cornered by a large, very drunk, man who'd been harassing a young woman in a theater. Bucky had gotten away without a black eye or injury of his own that time but she still clearly remembered him sitting at her kitchen table, lightly beating his head on his folded arms in despair over how reckless she was.

She could only imagine his reaction to her picking up a grenade.

Probably best to not tell him, ever.

 


	6. Chapter 6

By some miracle, she was chosen.

It didn't sink in right away. The other soldiers were packed up and moved out, and she stayed behind. Dr. Erskine let her move into the barracks so she could have an actual bed and her own bathroom for her final night there. It was a strange thing to walk in and see the room empty, the mattresses rolled up, the footlockers bare, and all because she'd been chosen over the rest.

She couldn't remember a time she'd ever been chosen over another option, any other option, unless it was by her family, who were obligated; and Bucky, who was not.

Bucky always chose her no matter what, or who, else was available.

A super soldier. Stephanie still didn't know exactly what that meant. There was little to do so, in the end, she unrolled one of the mattresses, sat on it with her hands clasped in her lap, and waited for her future to arrive.

It did about an hour later in the form of, once again, Dr. Erskine. It was then that she finally learned the entire story that had led to her being there. It was the first time she heard the name of Hitler's research division, Hydra. She learned about Johann Schmidt and Dr. Erskine's serum and the name of the division she was currently a part of, the Strategic Scientific Reserve. The SSR, under command of Colonel Phillips and was dedicated to finding new and, experimental, ways to fight against the enemy. It was for one of these experiments that she had been chosen.

Erskine wanted to make her better. To take every physical defect, every last health issue and flaw and make it perfect. Part of it sounded like every other person in her life who'd ever felt she wasn't good enough, who claimed they liked _her_ but wanted to change everything that made her who she was.

But Erskine quickly made it clear that wasn't what he was saying. What he was saying was that he already saw _her_ and what he saw he wanted to make better. He didn't want to change her. He wanted to amplify her, to turn her into an even stronger version of who she already was.

If it worked. If it didn't end with the vague sounding side effects he refused to explain. It was insane, science fiction even, and, admittedly, just the sort of thing she'd always dreamed about. Especially as a child, before she'd realized certain things were impossible. She'd used to tell Bucky about dreams she'd have where she was in a strong, perfect body capable of fighting evil in all its forms. He'd never laughed at her, that had come later from other children when she'd started school. Only then had it been driven home, quite cruelly, that she was weak and always would be.

Except, now, according to Dr. Erskine...perhaps not.

"I would imagine, if we are successful," Dr. Erskine said, "it will be impossible to hide the truth any longer."

"They'll find out I'm a woman," Stephanie said, relieved to be able to speak in her normal voice, or to be able to speak at all. "And you really believe they'll accept it?" Part of her honestly didn't care. Just the thought of having a strong, healthy body was more than enough to convince her to want to try.

Dr. Erskine grinned. "I think, if this works, they will not care what you are. They will simply care that you can fight."

***

The next day Stephanie returned home, not by train but in a sleek, black car complete with a driver and Agent Carter by her side.

It was an odd feeling, being back in those streets. It was even odder being there without Bucky. Being separated from him had driven home just how entwined with her life he truly was. She felt like she was missing a limb. She even found herself walking as if he was still present, her body automatically aligned to his even though he wasn't there to fill the space.

As they flashed past an alleyway she found herself pointing and saying, "I got roughed up once, in that alleyway." That one had been one of the rare, truly bad ones where she'd felt true fear. A belligerent man had been harassing a group of girls and Stephanie had gotten in the way, which had simply resulted in his attention shifting to her. In retrospect it had been idiotic, yet another example of her acting before thinking. Bucky had been at his job at the warehouse which meant he wasn't there to help and, well, the end result hadn't been pretty. Granted it could have been worse, it could always be worse, and at least she hadn't sustained any permanent injuries. All things told, a black eye, broken nose and a split lip had been her getting off easy. It was one of only three incidents where she'd been physically harmed, and was by far the worst one.

She'd tried to hide it from Bucky but she'd only been able to avoid him all of a day before he'd camped out on her doorstep, stating he would stay there until she came out and told him why she was avoiding him. She could still remember him standing over her where she sat on her couch, holding the towel-wrapped ice he'd given her to her eye. His hands had been clenched into fists and she remembered him breathing, panting almost as if he'd just finished running a race. The cords in his neck had been bulging and his eyes had cast about frantically as if looking for something to take that rage out on.

That something had ultimately been the man who'd beaten her. How Bucky had found him Stephanie had no idea but he'd done it. Bucky had thrown the man, now sporting matching injuries, to her feet and stood over him while the guy stammered out an apology.

She'd told the man to run. He had or, more accurately, stumbled and Bucky had spit out that if he ever saw the guy again he'd kill him.

Stephanie believed him. Bucky hadn't spoken to her for two weeks after that, angry over her putting herself in danger. He'd still shown up to walk her to and from work every chance he could, however, and had still met her for their weekly dinner, though it had been a rather cold and frosty one.

The alley flashed by and the memory faded, only to be replaced by another one. "I kicked a guy in that parking lot" she said, pointing as it flashed past the window. That one had been one of her better experiences. Despite what Bucky said, she didn't _always_ come out on the losing end. The man had made a crude remark about her looks, or lack thereof in this instance. He'd then compounded it by propositioning her, arguing he'd get drunk enough beforehand that her looks wouldn't matter.

He'd gone down like a cut log when her knee had connected. Bucky had taught her how to do it properly.

"If you're going for a man's legacy," he'd said dryly, "at least do it right and make sure he won't be getting back up quick."

That man certainly hadn't gotten back up quickly, writhing on the ground more than long enough for her to stalk away. Bucky had arrived as she'd reached the sidewalk, sighed in despair, and escorted her home without a word.

"Oh," she said, as they passed by yet another landmark, "and I got in a fight behind that diner."

 _That_ one had not been her fault. Just because Bucky didn't get in as much trouble as she did didn't mean he _never_ got in trouble and he believed in standing up for the little person as much as she did. She'd been waiting for him to have dinner when she'd heard a commotion in the parking lot located at the rear of the diner. Running outside she'd seen Bucky in the middle of a full on fight with a group of teenage hooligans, several girls standing nearby and cheering them on. Apparently, Bucky had taken issue with how the girls were being treated, not that they had cared as it turned out, and the teenage boys had felt they needed to teach him a lesson to show him the folly of bothering them.

Big mistake on their part.

Stephanie, being Stephanie, had immediately jumped on the back of the nearest one and bit down on his ear as hard as she could. The teenager had howled in pain and reared back, giving Bucky time to lay out one of the others. Stephanie had jumped down, hit the ground harder than she intended, and rolled out of the way just as Bucky dealt with a second idiot. It had been enough to convince the rest of them that they may have made a mistake and they'd run, leaving her and Bucky alone.

Afterward he'd yelled at her for getting involved and she'd yelled at him for putting himself in such a position in the first place. They hadn't spoken to each other for a week, but only because each of them had believed it was the other person not talking and had been waiting for a sign of forgiveness.

"Did you have something against running away?" Agent Carter asked and Stephanie jumped, her mind snapping back to the present.

She shrugged. "I figure they have to start respecting me at some point, right?"

Agent Carter's eyes narrowed. "I'm pretty sure they don't actually, or at least not from my experience." A knowing look came into her eyes. "I understand a little of what that's like, being shown no respect, having every door slammed in your face." She focused closer on Stephanie, her voice dropping low enough that the driver couldn't hear them. "I suspect you and I have quite a lot in common. Wouldn't you agree?"

Stephanie's eyes widened and she tensed. A wave of ice raced through her while she simultaneously felt herself flush, her mind panicked. "I'm not sure what you mean, ma'am." The last thing she needed was for her secret to come out when she was this close, right before the procedure.

Agent Carter laughed. "I'm the last person you have anything to fear from." Her good humor faded and she grew serious. "I just hope you're ready for the fallout after certain," here her eyes flickered to the driver and back again, "things come to light."

"I'm ready," Stephanie said. She hesitated. "Do you -- could I ask you for a favor, Agent Carter?"

"Of course," she responded, "and, please, call me Peggy."

"Alright, Peggy, thank you." Stephanie slid her hands under the dog tags laying against her collarbone and pulled them out. They clinked for an instant against her own tags and then she took them off and pooled them and the chain in her hand. She took a deep breath and held them out toward Peggy. "Would you keep these for me? Just until we know...how things are going to turn out?" Even if Dr. Erskine was right and they had no choice but to accept her if the serum was a success, she doubted very much they would be happy with her. She'd lied on her form and enlisted under false pretenses. There would be a fallout, an ugly one, and the last thing she wanted was Bucky dragged into it. She'd enlisted under the name Rogers and kept her ring hidden away for just that reason, she wasn't going to throw it all away now by having his tags on after they caught her. The original marriage certificate would be listed as a matter of public record in the Hall of Records but if no one even knew the marriage existed there was no reason to go and search for it. The only hint of a deeper connection were the tags. Once she gave them away Bucky was simply a childhood friend who'd gone off to war.

Peggy took the tags and looked at them. "James Buchanan Barnes. Who is he?" She kept her voice down, and the tags lowered.

"Just a friend," Stephanie said. "I don't know what this procedure entails. I'd hate for them to be accidentally misplaced."

Peggy slid the tags into her pocket and nodded. "They'll be safe with me. I give you my word."

"Thank you." Stephanie clutched her pants leg and tried to calm her nerves.

The car slid to a smooth stop in front of a store with a large sign reading, "Brooklyn Antiques". Peggy got out, walked around to her side and held the door open for her. "Are you ready?"

Stephanie took a deep breath. "Yes."

With that she got out, squared her shoulders and followed Peggy into the store.

***

The store ended up being a front for an enormous underground lab, the real workspace for Dr. Erskine. In the center of the room was a large, circular area bordered by panels full of blinking lights, switches and buttons. In the center of that was a large bed with what looked like metal pods on the sides and a top that could be closed over it.

Stephanie swallowed, her heart beginning to hammer in her chest. She wanted this, she did, but wanting and seeing it actually happen were two different things. It had felt almost abstract before but now was rapidly becoming very, very real. She felt cold and crossed her arms over her chest, trying to hide the fact she'd started shaking.

"It'll be alright," Peggy assured her and Stephanie gave her a half smile.

"I'll be fine." She was about to undergo an experimental procedure that, when done the last time, had caused "side effects" Dr. Erskine hadn't elaborated on. Then, assuming it was a success, the fact she was female would come out, in a room literally swarming with military police.

Sure, she thought dryly, it'd be just dandy.

She forced herself to step forward, and every single person below stopped and turned to look at her. She might have felt better, if it weren't for the fact the way they were looking was decidedly nervous, or possibly surprised she'd shown up.

Great.

She looked toward Peggy who gave her an outright nervous smile of her own and turned away sharply.

Also not comforting.

Stephanie shook her head and followed. There were metal steps leading down and the clang of each foot landing on a step seemed to echo loudly in the room.

Dr. Erskine greeted her and a photographer blinded her with a flash from a camera. After he'd left, Dr. Erskine turned to point at a large booth overhead, the front a sheet of glass allowing those inside to look out. "Colonel Phillips and the reporters are up there. There's also a Senator who's come to see, Brandt."

Stephanie swallowed past a sudden rock in her throat and nodded shakily. "Alright."

"Are you ready?" Dr. Erskine asked and she nodded again, more sure this time.

"I am."

"Okay, take off your tie and hat," he gave her a small smile. "Normally I would have you take your shirt off also but I think that would end our little experiment before it started, yes?"

Stephanie laughed. "Yes, I think it would."

He moved away and she shot another nervous look toward the observation booth before doing as she had been asked. She set her hat and tie on a nearby table, adding her dog tags to the top, and then climbed up to lay down on the bed. It was hard and uncomfortable but if she'd wanted comfort she'd have stayed home.

She was just getting settled when Dr. Erskine turned to speak to another man. Stephanie recognized him as Howard Stark. She'd seen him at the expo with Bucky. He'd demonstrated flying cars he'd designed. Said cars had promptly failed.

Her anxiety level doubled. She took another deep breath and focused overhead, trying to pretend she wasn't about to do the single most insane, and possibly stupid, thing she'd ever contemplated.

 _What did I say about not doing anything stupid while I was gone?_ Bucky's voice demanded in her head and she flinched with guilt.

She let out a breath in a huff. The waiting was by far the worst part. She wished they could just get it over with already.

Dr. Erskine sent Peggy up to the observation booth and Stephanie watched her walk away. As she reached the stairs the other woman turned to give a look that was probably supposed to be comforting but was far more worried than Peggy likely intended. Stephanie tried her best to smile back but the muscles in her mouth refused to function, so instead she simply returned the look until the other woman turned away and headed up the stairs. Then she went back to staring at the ceiling. She pretended she was back home and the war had never happened and Bucky had never left and the two were planning a trip to Coney Island and she'd never felt the need to agree to this procedure.

Dr. Erskine came up with a microphone and gave a speech to the people watching. Stephanie heard none of it as she was too busy watching as a thick strap was lifted up and over her chest. It was locked into a bracket on the other side of the table and then cinched tight across her chest. Two large metal...things were swung over on metal arms and lowered down on either side of her torso, right over her breasts. She hadn't bothered to bind them that morning knowing they were small enough the jacket would hide them, and not knowing how the procedure might affect a tight wrap around her chest.

She watched as vials were loaded into slots along the sides of the bed, each one filled with glowing blue liquid.

A sharp stab in her arm got her attention and she looked over in time to see a needle being removed from her flesh.

"Was that it?" she asked Dr. Erskine as he appeared at her side.

"That was penicillin," he said apologetically. He turned and began a countdown.

More metal pad things came down on her arms and thighs and she tensed, shutting her eyes in anticipation of whatever was about to happen. Her breathing increased and Dr. Erskine put a hand on her shoulder, trying to comfort her.

"Don't stop," she whispered to him. "Promise me. Whatever happens, don't stop. This is my only chance."

He nodded down at her, his eyes grave. "I promise."

The countdown finished, and dozens of needles stabbed into her flesh.


	7. Chapter 7

Stephanie grimaced...and then burning liquid entered her body and her eyes flew open, an involuntary grunt of pain escaping her throat.

The pain faded almost immediately to an uncomfortable warmth and she started to relax. The bed began to move and she gasped in surprise, her body twitching against the straps as it reacted instinctively to the sensation of falling. The bed raised her until she was almost vertical at which point the metal pods lifted and closed around her and a hood came down over her face shutting her away from the outside world. There was a viewport but it was too high for her to see out.

Good thing she wasn't claustrophobic.

She heard clunking as something was done to the outside of the pod and then a knocking sound as Dr. Erskine asked if she was alright.

"I think I left the stove on," she quipped, trying to keep her voice from shaking. "You think you can send someone to turn it off for me?"

He chuckled, and then she heard him giving the order to proceed.

A loud humming started around her and a bright light forced her to squeeze her eyes closed.

Inside her, the liquid still burning through her veins began to grow hotter. She let out a gasp and clenched her teeth as it continued to heat. Her blood felt like it was on fire and she bit down hard on a whimper of pain fighting to escape through her clenched teeth.

And that's when the real pain started.

It felt like every cell in her body was ripped open simultaneously. Her body was pulled, the muscles tearing and the bones stretching like putty.

She arched, her mouth opening but the pain was so bad it robbed her breath and nothing but an awful, chocking sound came out. When she was finally able to inhale enough to scream she knew full well the sound wasn't masculine but there wasn't a thing she could do about it, or the ones that followed. The pain shot to a crescendo, or what she prayed was a crescendo; becoming her entire world, the only thing she'd ever known. Her lungs seized again inside her and her mouth was locked open in a soundless scream, and still the pain went on.

And then, as fast as it had started, it was fading. The humming died down and the light bled away. The fire in her blood went out and she sagged against the bed. Her lungs unlocked and she dragged in a huge draught of air and then another.

She heard a whirring noise and then the doors were sliding open, cool air rushing over her, made colder by the sweat drenching her body and sticking her damp hair to her forehead and neck. In the room there was dead silence and Stephanie forced her eyes open, looking down at her body, convinced she would see it in bloody shreds.

She would swear it wasn't even hers. She had...curves, taut muscles, and smooth, flawless skin. She could feel hair resting on her shoulders and realized the procedure must have accelerated its growth, taking it from near stubble down to well past her shoulders. There were a few ash blonde strands stuck in her eyes, the shafts straight and shiny and without a single one of the split ends that always plagued her.

She became aware of cool air in places she shouldn't be able to feel it and flushed with embarrassment at the realization that her clothing not only no longer fit but was now ripped and tattered in a way that was barely appropriate and certainly not decent. Even as she noticed that, her eyes were drawn to her breasts which, while not huge, most definitely existed in a way they never had before and combined with the remnants of her clothing, marked her for exactly what she was.

"What in the _hell_ is this?"

Crap.

Dr. Erskine appeared at her side, getting the strap off her chest and supporting her as she stepped down. Her legs buckled as her feet met the floor and she staggered, holding onto him until she got her footing. She heard clattering on the stairs and then Peggy was there, offering her an oversized shirt. Stephanie shrugged off what was left of her jacket and slid the shirt on over the remnants of her old shirt, buttoning it quickly as Colonel Phillips approached, the look on his face thunderous.

"What in the _hell_ is this?" he demanded again. "I asked for a super soldier, not a damn housewife!"

"And you got one," Dr. Erskine responded firmly. "The procedure was a success."

"The procedure was a joke!" Colonel Phillips yelled back. "Do you have any idea how much money we poured into this? How much was riding on this? I can't present her to the Joint Chiefs," he shouted, sweeping an arm out to indicate her. "I'd be laughed out of the room!"

"I'm just as capable as anyone else," Stephanie insisted. "Just give me a chance to prove it."

A dark haired man in a suit strode up and addressed Phillips. "Did you know about this, Colonel? Exactly what kind of stunt are you trying to pull on the United States? This was supposed to create soldiers, not a new line of beauty treatments."

Stephanie flushed with anger. They thought she'd gone through all that to improve her looks? She opened her mouth to respond, but never got the chance.

The observation booth exploded.

Stephanie dropped to the ground, along with the rest of the room, her heart thundering in her chest. She heard a gunshot ring out, followed shortly by several more.

Telling herself this was the sort of thing she was made for, Stephanie jumped to her feet, and was horrified to see Dr. Erskine lying on the ground, red blooming from his chest. She stumbled forward and dropped to her knees beside him. At the other side of the room she spotted a man running up the stairs, Agent Carter close behind him, gun in hand.

A hand touched the side of her face and she looked down to see Dr. Erskine gazing up at her. He opened his mouth to try to speak, only to have his eyes lose focus and his face go slack. The hand at her face fell and he was gone.

Dr. Erskine, the first person aside from her parents and Bucky to ever believe in her and the only one in a position to give her a chance to be something more. She'd gone through this procedure so she could stand on her own two feet and save those who'd always saved her, and the first thing that happened was the man who'd given her the chance was murdered feet from her while she'd huddled in fear on the floor.

She raised her eyes in the direction the killer had fled and felt resolve flood her.

Like hell she was letting that bastard get away.

***

Her new body was...exhilarating.

She made it up to the street in record time, and not in the least bit winded. The constant feeling of fatigue that always plagued her was gone, no more sense that she was never taking in as much air as she needed.

She reached Peggy just in time to knock the other woman out of the way of a speeding car and then she was after it, her legs thundering under her like well-oiled machines. She might have laughed with joy, had the bastard she was chasing not just murdered a man she'd come to consider a friend.

Lucky for her, he was at disadvantage. She knew these streets like the back of her hand and knew her way around without having to think about it.

What she did not know, she found out quickly, was her new body. She lost control of it careening around a corner, her body moving much faster than she anticipated. She ended up crashing through the window of a boutique, which did not impress the people inside.

She scrambled up with a quick apology and was out again, barreling after a car and, yes, it was a car and, yes, it was moving at top speed and, yes, _she was catching up to it._

Everything was heightened, her vision, her sense of smell, her reflexes. She dodged cars coming at her as if they'd been standing still, leapt over a fence as if it wasn't even there and ended up riding the top of the killer's car at one point as it flew down the street. Adrenaline surged through her and she suddenly understand exactly what it was Bucky loved so much about the rollercoasters at Coney Island.

She was riding so high on her adrenaline, in fact, that it wasn't until she felt the burning pain of a bullet grazing her side that she came crashing back down to reality.

Right, super soldier, not invincible one.

She was a little more careful after that, creating a shield out of a car door that had ripped off the killer's car when after it crashed trying to escape her. She didn't get reckless again until he tried to escape in a submersible and she had to jump in after him. The whole time she could hear Bucky screaming at her in her head and made a promise to herself to never, ever tell him about it.

She caught the man and dragged him to the surface, where he promptly revealed himself as Hydra before crushing some sort of capsule in his mouth that promptly killed him. It wasn't the first time she'd seen a corpse, she'd seen her mother after she'd died and she'd seen Dr. Erskine moments earlier, but it still startled her enough that she released him and jerked back several steps.

Not a perfect end to her first mission, so to speak, but better than she would have expected. She stepped back and looked down at her body again, holding her arms out and studying the corded muscles, reaching up to run a hand through her hair, the strands like silk running through her fingers.

She _still_ wasn't winded.

She was also still not appropriately dressed, at least below the waist, so she spun on one heel and began to head back to alert the others to the location of the killer's corpse and his craft.

After this there was no way they could deny her usefulness. They would have to let her fight and she knew exactly where she would ask to be sent.

The 107th.

***

She wasn't expecting a parade when she got back but she wasn't expecting the dead silence either, or the way no one would meet her eyes. Colonel Phillips and Senator Brant were near Dr. Erskine's body. Both ignored her when she tried to tell them what had happened. It was Peggy who finally listened to her and sent agents out to the warehouse to deal with the killer.

After that she was dragged into a lab and poked and prodded with every sharp instrument and every test they could think of. There was a mirror in the room that gave her the first real look at her new body and, yep, that would explain the appreciative looks she'd been getting from men on the street as she'd walked back. She knew those looks, they were usually directed at Bucky by women. Somewhat to her surprise she felt a burst of sadness run through her. She didn't recognize the woman in the mirror, and doubted Bucky would either.

Eventually, she was given new clothes, still a little tight and looking suspiciously like something Peggy would wear. After that they did yet another blood draw where she was fairly certain they took just about every last drop she had.

The nurse never spoke to her, just did the tests and walked away after she was done. Stephanie slid off the table, a rock solidly lodged in her stomach, and walked over to where Peggy had been waiting, also silent.

"Here," she said as Stephanie approached. She held a hand out and Stephanie reached out to take back her own dog tags and Bucky's. She took that as a good sign. At least she wasn't going to be arrested and thrown in jail. That or she was and Carter didn't want any sign that she'd been in on the deception, but Stephanie didn't think the other woman would do something like that. She hoped.

"Without Erskine we have no chance of recreating the program," Peggy said as she led Stephanie out into the hall. "The only hope we have is what's now locked inside your genetic code."

Definitely not going to jail then, but now Stephanie was worried they planned to lock her in a lab somewhere. Of course, the way she was now she wasn't sure they could hold her, but the thought of being on the run the rest of her life wasn't a pleasant one.

They reached a door. Through windows set in it she saw the submersible had already been brought back and suspended in the middle of the room. Senator Brandt and Colonel Phillips were gathered around it.

Peggy gave her a look and said, "Ready to face the music?"

"No," Stephanie said. She put a hand to her chest, feeling Bucky's tags once again where they belonged under her shirt. If she ever wanted to get to him she had to keep moving forward, no matter what. "But I don't really have much choice in it, do I?"

"No," Peggy said, "you really don't."

She pushed the door open and, together, the two of them walked inside.

 


	8. Chapter 8

They wouldn't let her fight.

Stephanie stared at Colonel Phillips, her mind almost numb with shock. "You -- the procedure worked! You can see it did!"

"I can see that you and Dr. Erskine conspired to defraud the United States Army," Phillips shot back. "You're lucky I don't have you arrested!" At the look on her face he added, "What did you think I would do? Reward you? Applaud your deception? Send you out on the front lines?"

"Why not?" Stephanie demanded. "I'm good enough. You know I am. I chased down that Hydra operative and that was only minutes after the procedure!"

"Chased him down, and then stood there while he killed himself!"

"You wouldn't have him at all if I hadn't gone!" Stephanie shouted back. "Or his submersible! Sir, please," her voice wavered only slightly, but from passion, not tears. She hadn't cried in public, barring Bucky who was family, in years and certainly wasn't going to start for the likes of Phillips. "I can do this. Send me out there. Let me fight."

Phillips was already shaking his head and turning away, dismissing her. "You'd distract the troops, and make us a laughingstock. No man would ever follow you and you'd most likely pass out from fear at the first sign of battle."

Stephanie resisted the urge to do something she probably wouldn't regret. Fear wasn't limited to, or by, gender. She'd seen the look in the eyes of the departing soldiers, in Bucky's eyes as he'd boarded that train the last time she'd seen him. Courage and bravery didn't mean the absence of fear, it meant forward in spite of it.

"I don't need anyone to follow me," she insisted. "Send me in alone. You let Agent Carter go alone!"

"Agent Carter does not fight on the front lines!" Phillips retorted, his voice rising to a shout as he spun to face her again. He raised a finger to jab at her like a spear. "You an experiment and a failed one as far as the Army is concerned. You're also a liar and I'm damn well not rewarding you for it." He nodded toward Brandt. "He's got some asinine plan for you. You're his problem now."

And, with that, he was gone leaving Stephanie shaking with frustration behind him, her hands clenched in fists at her sides. Peggy followed him, shaking her head and mouthing, "I'm sorry" as she followed. She might claim to like her, Stephanie thought bitterly, but the other woman certainly wasn't willing to stand up and fight for her. Stark followed soon after leaving her alone in the room with Brandt.

He approached her, openly appraising her in a way that made her skin crawl, and said casually, "You know, they're changing the stories the papers plan to run."

Stephanie frowned at him, her emotions still running high. "What?"

"It's an embarrassment," he explained. "The United States Army fooled by a little girl and a German scientist."

"What does his being German matter?" Stephanie asked in annoyance.

Brandt shrugged. "Might make people wonder if he was really on our side or just trying to slow us down, sabotage us."

"He died," Stephanie said, her jaw clenched. "I'm pretty sure that shows whose side he was on."

"It shows he wasn't on Hydra's side, not that he was on ours," Brandt corrected. "Regardless, this whole...thing," he waved an arm absently to indicate her and the room, "leaves a lot of very powerful people with egg on their face, and a whole lot of wasted money to explain away."

Stephanie flinched. It wasn't wasted, she wanted to insist, not when the program worked. It was their own damned pride and bruised egos that were getting in the way of her being used the way they'd wanted, on the front lines.

Brandt continued. "Originally they were just going to leave it, let the papers report whatever they wanted and feign ignorance about why and Amazonian woman running through the streets would be wearing dog tags and the...remnants of army style clothing." The way he said the last let her know he'd gotten an eyeful before she'd changed and Stephanie felt a rush of nausea at the thought. She hadn't been wearing dog tags at the time but resisted the urge to point it out, knowing it'd just take her further down a road she already didn't want to be on.

Brandt stepped closer, his eyes gleaming. "But then I had an idea. Everyone loves a symbol, something, or someone, they can really get behind and believe in. If it's a good enough symbol it can get them to the recruitment office or, at the least, to open their wallets."

"Bail bonds," Stephanie said flatly, her mind already seeing where he was going. "You want to use me to sell bail bonds." She grimaced. She highly doubted he wanted her to sell them using her a small and charm. She frowned suddenly in confusion as she thought through what he'd said. "If you want me to be a symbol why did you change the story? _What_ did you change?"

Brandt shrugged. "What do you think? We're trying to recruit soldiers and money for them, not housewives and vacuum cleaners."

Stephanie went still, cold rushing through her as realization struck. "You're going to have the story run as if I were a man," she said flatly. "It won't work. People saw me."

"They think they saw you," Brandt corrected. "No pictures, at least not anymore. They read about a mystery man in the papers and half will figure they were just mistaken. Makes more sense, doesn't it?" he asked, an oily smile fixed to his face. "A man doing all those things? As for the rest," he shrugged again, "happened so fast, faulty memory, that sort of thing, raising doubt is simple enough. An urban legend may spring up, a myth, but who puts any credence in those?"

Stephanie wanted to throw up from the sheer frustration and unfairness of it all. She'd been a fool to let herself get caught up in Dr. Erskine's fantasy. A fool to ever think just because she'd gotten stronger that anyone would take her more seriously.

She'd risked everything, including her relationship with Bucky when he found out what she'd done, and for what? So she could be replaced by a man in her own story.

"Why do you want me?" she asked dully. She gave in at last and wrapped her arms around her chest defensively, frowning at how different the action felt. Bucky wouldn't recognize her. Hell, _she_ wasn't sure she recognized herself.

"Ah," Brandt said, his tone positively gleeful, "now that's where the real brilliance of my idea comes in."

***

She hated the idea but agreed in the end, mainly because Brandt threatened to have her arrested for fraud if she didn't.

As expected, the draw of the show was not her winning personality. They put her in a costume that was basically a hybrid between a swimsuit and a corset with a thin strip at the bottom that might have been a skirt but could just as easily have been a ribbon. It was blue with a large silver star on the front, the skirt red and white. To that they added sheer tights to enhance the look of her legs and slender silver boots. They topped it off by pulling her hair back into a ponytail with a large silver ribbon, to give her a girl next door look, the producers insisted.

Stephanie didn't remember ever having any female neighbors who dressed quite so provocatively. If she had she imagined Bucky would have been far more interested in playing outside when they were younger instead of sitting holed up in her room playing cards or going through his prized comic book collection.

To make her the symbol they wanted her to be her name was not announced, or listed anywhere. Nothing personal about her was released, in fact, name, age, place of birth, background, nothing at all. Instead she was given the title Lady Liberty and held forth as a symbol of America, her people and the liberty they all held so dear.

Showgirls, who were dressed similarly to her but more conservatively, would come out first and dance a number to get the crowd excited. She would follow soon after and take center stage, performing her own solo about how much she loved America and liberty and her soldiers and so forth and so on.

Thankfully, it would appear the serum had greatly enhanced her singing voice along with everything else. Bucky had once claimed her singing could kill dogs from three blocks away. He'd shut up when she'd mentioned the odor when he removed his shoes could drop skunks from four miles away, but he'd had a point.

She tried not to think of him very often. She'd known he'd be angry when he found out what she'd done but had hoped she'd win him over by showing how useful she was to the war. Dancing around in an inappropriate costume trying to get people to hand over cash was not her idea of being useful and she had no doubt it wouldn't be his. He'd be angry, betrayed but, worse than all that...he'd be disappointed.

She didn't know if he'd forgive her, and the anxiety about it colored her memories of him, edging each one in pain as she imagined how he would react to what she'd done.

She did continue to wear his dog tags, prominently displayed each show. The corset was low cut and there was no fabric to hide them behind when she wore her costume. No one seemed to care that she had them, or asked where they'd come from considering they'd taken hers. Eventually, the producers of the show added them to the overall mythology. Lady Liberty didn't wear tags because she was in the military, they were symbols of the soldiers overseas watching over her who she held ever close to her heart.

The constant feel of them against her breastbone brought home the added fact that she had no idea if Bucky was even alive. She'd like to think she'd know if he wasn't, that so awful an event would undermine the very fabric of the world in so fundamental a fashion that she'd feel it no matter how far away she was. Realistically, however, she knew it wasn't like that at all. The world didn't care about him the way she did and it wouldn't notice if he were lost. She'd received no word from him, not that she'd expected to. Even if he was in a location where he had access to pen and paper it could be a long time before he'd have a chance to post a letter. Then it would have to make its way across a war ravaged landscape, over the ocean, and to an apartment she wasn't living in. She could always just contact the man Erskine had paid to live there and ask him if there had been any letters but she hadn't.

She was afraid he would say no.

She'd started letters to him multiple times, only to tear up each one before posting it. She didn't even know where to send it, information was often wildly outdated and if she sent it to a location the 107th had already vacated the letter would most likely be lost or outright destroyed rather than forwarded.

Even if he were okay, and she could write and know it'd get to him, she didn't know what to say. He was undoubtedly having a hard enough time as it was and, currently, she didn't have it in her to write anything that would cheer him up. Every time she looked in the mirror she didn't recognize herself, and she certainly didn't respect herself. Worse than the damn costume and the show, the producers had turned her into an outright pin up girl. Posters of Lady Liberty were sold by the thousands and she'd seen them, plastered in seedy alleyways and back halls. Stacks of them were sent overseas to the soldiers to assure them that Lady Liberty always had them in their thoughts and the fear that Bucky would see one was more than she could handle on the best of days. What would he think of her? She knew what the women who came with their men to the shows thought, had seen the looks of disgust and judgement, noticed the way they refused to shake her hand after when she was ushered to the lobby with the other girls to shake hands. They thought her a woman of loose morals and she could care less what they thought but she _did_ care what Bucky thought. The fear that he might think she'd compromised her values, that she wasn't the woman he'd thought she was...that she'd married him, fake or not, and then immediately treated those vows like they meant nothing at all...it made her physically ill.

She kept to herself for the most part, shaking hands with a false smile in the lobby, dodging the occasional wayward hand, signing those damn posters, and the like until she felt she'd been there long enough and could slip away. The next day she'd show up for rehearsals, nod politely to the girls, and repeat the whole process, the only break the occasional times when people in white lab coats would show up to take blood from her to cart off to labs in the hopes of reproducing the serum running through her veins. The producers preferred it that way. They didn't want anyone getting to know her. They wanted Lady Liberty, not Stephanie Barnes. Most of the girls in the show didn't even know her name, simply referring to her as Liberty. She would stand backstage with them, waiting for the show to start and watch them talk and laugh among themselves while she stood off to one, alone.

She began to feel invisible, the character of Lady Liberty the only thing that mattered, the woman playing her of little import or interest save in how she looked on a poster.

That along with her worry over Bucky and her disgust at what she was being forced to do contributed to a deep sense of depression that settled over her like a thick blanket. It drained her energy and left her even less recognizable, to herself or anyone else.

She felt like a failure.

She'd failed Dr. Erskine, Bucky, her parents, everyone who'd ever believed in her. Senator Brandt assured her every penny she helped bring in aided "their boys overseas" and perhaps it did but not in the way she'd wanted, the way she'd dreamed. Not in a way she could take pride in. She was a pretty face, a trained monkey, the stage a cage with the people in the audience looking through invisible bars to watch her preform. She couldn't leave, not without Brandt carrying through on his threat to have her arrested for defrauding the government.

She was trapped...and that wasn't even the worst part.

No, the worst part, the final nail in her coffin so to speak...was she danced and sang and appeared on posters for a show she wasn't the star of.

Every night, about halfway through her number and performance on stage, an actor dressed as Hitler would burst out, fake gun in hand. The other girls would flee while Stephanie would dramatically scream and fall to the ground, magically tripping over nothing as he advanced on her. She'd then have to further humiliate herself by scrambling backwards, her legs suddenly not working because, reasons.

It was then that Captain America would appear to save her. He was, according to the papers, the mystery man who'd chased a wanted Nazi operative through the streets of Brooklyn before heroically apprehending him. He wore a full body costume, similar to hers in color and with the star on the chest. His covered his entire body, however, and came complete with a hood that covered most of his head and face meaning he could go home at night with no one knowing who he was. He was as much a symbol as she was and, as such, was also listed as simply Captain America, the papers referring to him as Cap in interviews and photos. Where she symbolized America and liberty he symbolized all the brave soldiers fighting in the trenches, valiantly protecting liberty from Hitler and his evil Third Reich. He had posters of his own, all of him heroically marching off into battle or commanding legions of men rushing to victory. There were a few of her standing on the edge of a cliff, wearing a very thin dress that was little more than a shift, watching emotionally as he strode off toward a ship, a random wind whipping her clothing and hair about her. The only way she was able to get the expression they wanted was to recall watching Bucky boarding that train and being forced to stand there as it carried him away from her.

During the show, Captain America would charge out onto the stage, to the cheers and applause of the crowd, and lay out the Hitler actor with a single, very fake, punch. Once he had she would leap to her feet, her legs mysteriously functioning again, run to him, throw herself down and clutch at his leg in gratitude. While she did this he would read off the bail bonds sales pitch from off the back of a thin metal shield. Once that was over the curtain would fall on the two of them gazing poignantly at each other and another performance would be in the books.

The second it was over she'd be up and gone, her dislike over the man they'd picked to play Captain America difficult to mask. His real name was Arthur and he was short and built like a tank with thinning black hair and a foul temper, none of which mattered to the producers. Captain America was always seen in full costume, cowl included, for any function so the man inside the costume only had to fit the basic requirement of being male. He was young, about her age, and convinced he was the Lord's gift to humanity, particularly the female population.

He was crass to the showgirls, and her, often making lewd comments or trying to grope them if they got anywhere close.

Stephanie was able to put up with him for a month, the final straw coming at a photo shoot. Not every poster done of her was a pin up style one, though the vast majority were. There were different posters intended for recruitment centers or movie theaters and, for them, she was generally not photographed alone. In this particular one she was supposed to do the whole leg clutching thing while Captain America would hold a gun and gaze upwards. A painted backdrop had planes flying overhead and a huge flag waving in a breeze behind them, all very patriotic and dramatic.

The position she had to hold in order to grab his leg and still look good for the camera was awkward and painful, her hip soon began to ache and her body stiffened up from being locked in one stance for so long. She also had to stretch unnaturally and the muscles in her waist and torso were soon burning and shaking from the effort to hold still.

It was toward the end of a long day that Arthur looked down at her, leered, and loudly announced, "while you're down there, why don't you make yourself useful and give a man a hand?" He then reared back and laughed loudly at his own joke, while the entire studio stood in awkward silence.

Something inside Stephanie snapped. She'd spent a lot of time gritting her jaw at his comments, avoiding him in the halls and ignoring his taunts. Apparently he'd taken that to mean she was afraid and had decided it was safe to escalate his behavior.

He was wrong.

With a smile that could have been made from pure sugar, and would have rightfully terrified Bucky, Stephanie gazed up at him and said, "Oh, Arthur, I thought you'd never ask."

She then proceeded to give him the hand he wanted...only in the form of a fist...and with decidedly more force than he probably wanted. Several of the men in the room gasped and at least two involuntarily put their hands protectively over their own...personal areas...in an empathetic reaction.

Arthur went down like a chopped log and lay on the ground curled in a fetal position.

Stephanie had already released his leg and stood up. Giving a sunny smile to the rest of the crew, she said, "Well, I think we're done here. Good day everyone."

And, with that, she stepped over Arthur and strode out of the room. A burst of energy raced through her and, for the first time in a long time, she felt like herself. Just a little.

She learned later that Arthur demanded she be fired only to find himself terminated instead.

Apparently Lady Liberty was far more popular than he was.

Go figure.

 


	9. Chapter 9

They hired a new Captain America a week later.

It wasn't particularly hard to find someone. The show didn't call for much acting, just one fake punch and reading a script. His entire body and head was covered by the costume so looks didn't matter either. The producers sent out a casting call, through a proxy company, looking for a man with a general height and weight requirement. Then, once they'd found him, he was told he was going to be Captain America and forced to sign a disclosure swearing he would never breathe a word about not being the original one.

Stephanie was told the basics by the producers and shown a photograph. His name was Tony and he was an athletic, strapping young man a few years older than her. He had hair even more blond than hers and striking eyes and was big enough that the costume designers were excited about not having to add padding to his costume the way they'd needed to do for Arthur to give the illusion he was muscled.

Aside from that, Stephanie knew nothing about him and was perfectly fine with that. The high she'd gotten after showing up Arthur had faded upon the realization she was still as trapped as she'd ever been. She'd soon settled into resignation and stopped even trying to pretend she cared. No more fake smiles, no sticking around after rehearsal so people could ignore her until she gave up and left. She started to behave as if she were as invisible as she felt. She'd get up in whatever hotel room they had her in that week, eat breakfast in her room, and go to rehearsal. She'd walk in with her eyes fixed straight ahead and her head and back straight. She'd preform her parts without making eye contact with anyone, and walk out the second she was done. She'd then spend the rest of her day on her own, usually in her hotel room as she could hardly set foot outside without being recognized and mobbed, mainly by men. She'd retire to bed early, her sleep usually poor and haunted by nightmares of Bucky in danger or worse; and repeat the whole thing the next day. The only break in the monotony were the occasional visits by the various scientists after pints of her blood as they tried to recreate the serum.

On the day Tony was due she actually managed to forget about it until, upon arriving, she was startled to hear a male voice coming from backstage. She slowed her walk down the narrow hall leading from outside as she heard one of the girls say, "I already told you. Her name is Lady Liberty. Sheesh, everyone knows that."

"I know her character's name," a deep, booming voice replied. "I wanted to know her real name. Her parents didn't put Lady Liberty on her birth certificate."

"Maybe they put down Ice Queen," another girl sniggered. "She always struts around like she's so much better than we are. Everyone knows she got Arthur fired because she didn't like him. She's a diva."

"No one liked Arthur," a third voice broke in. Stephanie thought she recognized it as one of the younger girls, Polly. She was one of the few who'd smile at Stephanie when she came in and Stephanie had greeted her a time or two. "He was a total creep. I heard rumors about the way he treated her and it was way worse than anything he ever did to us. She did us all a favor getting rid of him."

A few others murmured assent but Stephanie didn't wait around to hear what else they would say and headed toward her dressing room. She hadn't asked for a private one but the producers insisted on giving her one anyway no matter where she went. Once there she changed into the costume they forced her to wear, grimacing as she always did at how short the skirt. The bodice was just as bad, and cut in a way that shoved her breasts up until they were nearly bursting out the top. It was the outfit they made her wear in the pin up posters and though she'd refused to do any of the truly provocative poses they'd wanted it was bad enough for the posters to exist at all. The thought of them being sent overseas, and Bucky seeing one of them...

A knock sounded on the door and she tensed, straightening her spine and putting on her show face. Walking over, she grabbed the knob and pulled it open, starting in surprise to see a guy the size of a small mountain standing just outside.

He gave her a positively radiant smile and stuck his hand out. "Tony Grant, ma'am. I'm the new Captain America."

"I know who you are," Stephanie said, her voice flat even to her own ears. If this one was going to be like Arthur then it was best to create space between them from the start, insofar as space could be created when she'd be hanging on his leg every show.

The smile on his face never wavered and the hand stayed exactly where it was. "I was wondering if I could ask your name, ma'am," he said, meeting her eyes steadily. "Calling you Lady Liberty seems a bit impersonal, you know?"

She almost, _almost_ bit out that she had zero intention of being anything at all personal to him. There was...something about him, however, the way his expression was completely guileless, the sincerity in his voice....no sign of a hidden agenda, or an inappropriate one.

Hesitantly, she reached a hand out and slid it into his. He gripped it immediately, his handshake firm and the smile on his face, if possible, grew broader.

"Stephanie," she said, surprised at how foreign her own name sounded. She couldn't remember the last time anyone had used it. "Stephanie Rogers." She wished, for not the first time, she could refer to herself as Stephanie Barnes, if only because using Bucky's name would make her feel connected to him as if he wasn't as far as, intellectually, she knew he was.

He nodded. "Pleased to meet you, Stephanie. I look forward to working with you."

She nodded in return, unsure of what else to say. He gave a light touch of his fingers to his brow in a salute that reminded her so much of Bucky it physically hurt, spun on one heel and walked away.

And so went her first meeting with the man who would be the new Captain America.

***

They had a quick run through later, preparing for the show that night. Stephanie did what she was supposed to and hid a flinch at the look of disapproval on Tony's face when she grabbed his leg. It shouldn't have surprised her, she knew. Being dressed like she was, being a pin up girl, it didn't exactly lend to a good reputation. People like Tony who, so far at least, appeared to have good manners and a moral upbringing, weren't going to look at her in a positive light. A lot of how he behaved continued to remind her of Bucky and she wondered just how far the comparison went. Bucky had good manners too and a good upbringing, always treating others with decency and respect. He dated a lot but it was always casual, never going past a dance or two or a drink and the girls, from what Stephanie had seen, understood this. He never led anyone on, never gave them false expectations.

She didn't know if Tony was the same in all those respects but just seeing the areas where he _was_ and then to see him look at her like that made her mind think of how Bucky might look at her and that...that thought broke her heart in a way she hadn't realized it could be broken.

As soon as the rehearsal was done she went to scramble to her feet and get away from him before he could say whatever cutting thing she was sure he intended to say, only to stop as she found his hands in front of her face.

"Probably not easy to get up and down in those shoes," he said, his voice still as kind as when he'd introduced himself.

Stephanie took his hands tentatively and he pulled her carefully to her feet.

"I was thinking I might try something different tonight," he said. "You think I should run it by the producers first?"

"I wouldn't," Stephanie answered. She wondered if he wanted to change it so she was no longer touching him but, if so, he'd need to tell her that and he seemed to have no interest in doing so.

"Better to apologize later?" he said with a grin and Stephanie snorted.

"I used to think that." She shrugged. "Do whatever you want. It doesn't matter to me." She toyed with Bucky's tags absently as she spoke, looking past Tony. "I'm tired. I'm going to lie down before the show."

He nodded. "As you wish, ma'am. I'll see you tonight."

She agreed and returned to her dressing room. Before she knew it, it was time for the show. She obediently returned to the stage and went through the motions, everything blending together as she sang her number and preformed her dance routine.

At the appropriate moment the fake Hitler arrived and she obediently fell to the ground as the crowd gasped in delighted horror. Tony leapt onto the stage, far more into it than Arthur had ever been, and dispatched him with one, melodramatic fake punch that drew a laugh from the audience.

Stephanie obediently responded to her cue and started to throw herself down to grab his leg, only to pull up short as she found him reaching a hand down toward her. She looked up in confusion to see him giving her an expectant look. Still confused, she took his hand, and he promptly pulled her up to stand next to him.

"In my opinion, ma'am," he said conversationally, and low enough to only be heard by her, "Lady Liberty doesn't kneel."

"Don't call me ma'am," Stephanie retorted without thinking, the barest spark of her old self taking note and asserting itself. She stared at him in wide eyed shock, not entirely believing what he'd just done.

Tony grinned, stepped back, snapped to full attention, and saluted her.

"Yes, ma'am."

The crowd loved it and the producers changed the show accordingly. Captain America would still charge out onto the stage and knock out Hitler but, after, he would gallantly help her up, stand at attention, and salute her. She would then retrieve his shield from where it was now displayed on a pedestal at the back of the stage, and grandly present it to him before standing proudly behind him as he read the sales pitch.

It may not have seemed like a big change overall but to her, it was massive. The next time they performed Stephanie found herself actually looking forward to it, genuinely excited for the first time in a long time.

Once the show was over, she followed Tony offstage and spontaneously threw her arms around him. "Thank you."

"Don't worry about it, Sweetheart," he answered, wrapping one arm around her in return. Stephanie had been called sweetheart before and had always found it condescending but, from Tony, she felt nothing but genuine affection.

He treated all of them like they were his sisters. He was polite and respectful, his eyes never dropping lower than their faces, his hands never straying. After the shows, when they had to go to the lobby to meet people, he noticed the way she would be mobbed by men and began to stay near her, sliding between her and her more rambunctious fans with a booming greeting and an exuberant handshake. Slowly, his own popularity started to rise and, after shows, he would often have as many fans waiting for him as she would have for her. The first time it happened he gave her a nervous look but she simply smiled in response, more than willing to share the attention. Bucky had always been the one to draw attention before the serum. She'd never begrudged him that and, after the serum, had quickly found she didn't enjoy it to begin with. She preferred her privacy and being mobbed by large groups of strangers did not appeal to her. Tony seemed in his element in the midst of a crowd and she was more than happy to leave him to it.

On her way out she impulsively complimented one of the girls on her performance, eliciting a startled look and a thank you in return. The next day the same girl greeted her and Stephanie returned it. Slowly, over the next few weeks she began to talk to several of the girls, Polly included. It got to the point she surprised herself by waking up one morning and realizing she was looking forward to the show and to getting time to spend with her friends.

Later that same night, after the show she changed and got ready to leave only to pause as she caught sight of herself in the mirror in her dressing room.

For the first time in a very, very long time...she recognized the woman reflected in the glass.

Not as Lady Liberty, but as Stephanie. Stephanie Barnes nee Rogers.

She walked out, and smiled as she spotted Tony and several of the girls who'd invited her to join them for a few drinks.

Maybe, she thought, as she fell in with them, their voices chattering excitedly and one of the girls grabbing her arm to tell her something, just maybe, Stephanie Rogers wasn't so lost after all.

Maybe.

***

Their popularity soared even higher. Papers reported that her beauty had somehow managed to increase, her smile brighter, her eyes more vibrant and her expression coming alive during the shows. Some speculated the reason was she'd fallen in love and tried to guess who the lucky guy was. Stephanie wanted to deny it but the producers told her not to, citing it brought even more attention and interest to the show.

Tony's popularity also reached new heights, attributed to the sheer charm and charisma he seemingly exuded from every pore. The fact he was a natural in the spotlight, where Stephanie most definitely was not, didn't escape the producers. They had long given up on sending Stephanie out to press conferences or to parties to mix and mingle, knowing she was less than stellar at it, but they jumped at the chance to try again with Tony.

He positively shined at it. A few times Stephanie was sent along with him and she was more than happy to stand back and let him take center stage. At one point he tried to drop back, worrying he was stealing attention from her, only to have her outright order him back into it, assuring him the very last thing she wanted was the limelight. After that Tony threw himself into it and quickly rose so high in fame that he was soon every bit as popular as she was, a fact that took a huge amount of pressure and stress off her. In spite of no one ever seeing his face, as he continued to wear the costume in all public appearances, Stephanie doubted the show would ever be able to replace him the way they'd done Arthur. Arthur had been a guy wearing a suit.

Tony was Captain America.

Their show became bigger and flashier, adding props, moving pictures and more lights. Cap, as the public began to call him with affection, began to appear in television ads and comic books, leading groups of men into battle and victory. There was even a movie featuring him saving her from the grips of Hitler who'd kidnapped her and locked her in a rather fanciful looking tower. After he'd freed her, she'd gotten a wardrobe change for the first time, her standard costume vanishing in a burst of light to be replaced by flowing robes. The fabric was a little too clingy and just a bit transparent when the light hit it at the right angle but it was still more modest than what she normally wore. She presented Cap with a gleaming metal shield and waved as he valiantly marched back into battle with a battalion of men behind him.

She and Tony went to see it together and, as people around her cheered, Stephanie realized that, somewhere, it had become her and Tony's show, together.

She found she didn't mind.

***

A few weeks later found her curled up in a chair in her dressing room, her spirits as low as they had been back when Arthur had been Captain America. She wasn't crying but was close, her eyes burning and her breathing shaky.

In that particular theater the dressing room they'd put her in was at the end of a long, narrow hall. The room was exceptionally small and stuffy and she'd left the door cracked open to allow some circulation of air so her makeup didn't melt right off before she got to the stage.

Not that it mattered at that point. She'd tried putting her makeup on but her hands had been shaking so hard from emotion she'd finally thrown the small case across the room, washed off her face and dropped into the chair where she was currently sitting.

She heard noise outside the door and then a short rap on the wood.

"Hey Stephanie?" Tony's voice came. "I was wondering if--" His voice trailed off and Stephanie cursed mentally, clenching her teeth to try and resist the way her breath was still off and the way every few moments her emotions tried their best to send her over the edge.

"Stephanie?" his voice came again. "Are you okay, Sweetheart?"

"I'm fine," Stephanie managed to get out, her voice wavering just a bit and, sure, that was the way to convince him. She held still, hoping he'd leave.

"Alright," Tony said, "I'm guessing you're decent since your door is open so I'm coming in."

Before she could say anything the door opened and then he was there, his bulk taking up most of the room. Stephanie inhaled sharply and looked away, drawing her legs up tighter and wrapping her arms around them. "I wouldn't think decent is a word you'd use to describe me," she said bitterly, focusing on the wall next to her chair.

Tony chuckled. "Ain't your fault what they make you wear or the photos they use to sell things."

He found a second chair, one far too small for his frame but he managed to wedge himself into it anyway. "What's wrong?"

Stephanie ignored him, propping one elbow on the chair and resting her chin in her hand. She stayed silent for several long minutes, but all Tony did was stand up long enough to hand her a tissue from a box on her desk and then take his seat again. He leaned forward to rest his arms on his knees and clasped his hands in front of him.

And waited.

Finally, with a sigh, Stephanie said, "Senator Brandt is visiting the show."

"I met him," Tony said. "Oily fellow isn't he?"

Stephanie let out a shaky laugh. "Yes, he is."

"So what'd he say that upset you?" Tony asked.

Stephanie looked down at the tissue in her hands, absently shredding it. "He brought a friend," she mumbled, keeping her eyes down.

"Saw him too," Tony said. "Older guy, right?"

Stephanie nodded. "Brandt says he made a sizable donation."

"Yeah?" Tony said, frowning, "and that's a bad thing?"

Stephanie sighed, her shoulders slumping. She pushed back into the chair and, for the first time, made eye contact with Tony. "Brandt says I have to go on a date with him, as a sign of the show's gratitude." Her voice was completely flat and she looked away immediately, unable to maintain eye contact with him.

"So tell him where he can go stick it," Tony said, his voice hard. "Better yet, I'll tell him."

"You can't," Stephanie said sharply. She hesitated. "I... I sort of lied about something and Brandt says if I don't do what he wants he can put me in jail for it."

Tony burst out laughing and Stephanie gave him an outraged look. "It's not funny!"

"It sort of is," Tony said, still chuckling. He gave her a gentle look. "Sweetheart, you have any idea who you are?" When she gave him a blank look he said, "Lady Liberty, the darling of the entire country. There's no way in hell Brandt's going to lock up Lady Liberty without a whole lot of people demanding why and I'm willing to guess he won't want to say it's because she refused to be sold to the highest bidder."

Stephanie grimaced in disgust at the description, though it was certainly apt. "But shouldn't I do it anyway?" she asked. It wasn't like she would be in any actual danger from the guy, not with her enhanced strength. "It's not like people don't already think--"

"People are idiots," Tony said bluntly. "They could ask any one of us and we'd all report you've never so much as looked at any of those guys always crowding around you. Not to mention I'm the one who usually escorts you to your hotel room door at night and there ain't no one ever waiting. Those posters and that outfit ain't you and anyone that matters knows it."

"Maybe not," Stephanie agreed, "but, I mean, if I say no he might take back the money. That much money could help the troops, couldn't it?"

Tony tilted his head, studying her. "What would your guy say?" he asked finally.

Stephanie blinked. "My guy?'

He nodded at her chest. "I'm pretty close to you every time we perform, close enough to see there's a name on those tags."

Stephanie tensed. "They're just generic. The producers gave them to me."

He gave her a mildly reproving look. "James Buchanan Barnes is not a generic name," he said dryly, "and the way you hold onto them shows they matter to you."

Stephanie started to protest, only to stop as she realized she was actually holding the tags right then, her fingers tangled in the chain, the tags themselves held tight in her palm. She gave a small laugh, looking down at them and giving in. "He'd probably say I'm not required to starve so that someone else can eat." She looked at him, her smile a bit larger. "And then he'd punch Brandt, and his friend."

"Good man," Tony said in approval. He stood up and held a hand out to help her up. "Come on, what do you say we go tell Brandt what we think of his proposal? What's he going to do after all, fire us?"

Stephanie remembered back to Arthur and the way he'd been fired instead of her. Now, with Tony's popularity as high as her own, she seriously doubted they could release either of them without backlash from the public.

Still, the sight of him standing over her caused her shoulders to slump just a little. After all she'd gone through, and done, and here she was still needing to be saved as much as she'd needed it before the serum.

"I don't need you to save me," she said tiredly, annoyed more at herself than him.

"I ain't offering to save you," Tony said simply. "I'm offering to stand next to you and back you up while you save yourself. How about it?"

Stephanie looked up at him and then took his hand and let him pull her to her feet. "Why is it," she said as she stood in front of him, "that every time I'm around you I end up with the urge to hug you?"

He laughed and wrapped an arm affectionately around her shoulders, leading her out the door and in the direction of the producer's office where Brandt would most likely be found. "Couldn't say, Darling, but I'm certainly not complaining."

***

Stephanie raised her glass and tapped it to Tony's before lifting it to her lips with a grin. "To the look on Brandt's face."

Tony chuckled and returned the toast, raising his glass in a salute before taking a drink.

It was several hours later. The confrontation in the office had gone far better than she'd expected. Brandt had backed down surprisingly quickly in the face of potentially losing both her and Tony and, as Tony had said, Brandt had never brought up the threat of prison, not even once.

Stephanie had felt her confidence grow as she'd taken the man to task, feeling ever more like her old self as they had gone on. After leaving the office, Stephanie had been nearly shaking with adrenaline and Tony had suggested heading to small tavern nearby for a drink. She'd agreed and now here they were, seated on stools at the bar, both of them in their seldom used civilian clothing. Stephanie could tell several people had recognized her but they all steered clear, giving her privacy. It probably helped that, with the way they were seated, people would have to physically get past Tony to speak to her and no one wanted to try.

"So," Tony said, clunking his glass back on the counter. "We haven't had much chance to sit and just talk. Tell me about yourself, Stephanie Rogers. Where are you from?"

"Brooklyn," she said softly. "We were poor, technically, but I always felt pretty rich. I had my parents, for a while, and Bucky of course."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "Bucky?"

Stephanie pulled the tags out from under her collar. "James. Bucky's his nickname." She frowned, wondering for the first time just who it was who'd looked at his middle name and gotten Bucky from it.

"Ah," Tony said. "Known him a long time, then?"

"My whole life," Stephanie said, sliding the tags back under her shirt. "I don't think there's a single childhood story I could tell that wouldn't feature him prominently in it."

"Yeah?" Tony said. "Why do I get the feeling he was probably the cause of some of those stories?"

"Actually," Stephanie said with a laugh, "I usually was. He was the long suffering one dragging me out of whatever scrape I'd gotten myself into." With that she launched into one of her favorite stories, Tony listening attentively. Afterward he told her about his sisters and growing up on a farm in Kentucky. He also told her of his attempts to enlist only to be rejected for, of all things, flat feet. The story reminded Stephanie of her own attempts and she felt a burst of comradeship for him, not that she could tell him about her own experience.

It was one of the most relaxing evenings she'd had in a long time and when Tony escorted her back to her hotel a few hours later she dropped into her bed and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

For once.

***

Two weeks later they were back in New York. It felt like forever since she'd last seen it, the day Dr. Erskine had been killed, and even longer since she'd walked the streets as a scrawny kid who didn't know how to stay out of trouble. Granted, she still didn't know how to stay out of trouble but at least she wasn't a scrawny kid anymore.

The show they did was their biggest yet. They had mock tanks, the silhouettes of airplanes flying overhead and Cap rising out of a dais in the floor with her at his side while the girls, twice as many as ever before, danced around them. In the pit a full orchestra played.

They ended to a standing ovation. Afterward the girls and Tony went to the lobby to meet their fans. Usually Stephanie would join them but, this time, she slipped away, retreating to the third floor of the large theater. She found a room where the resident troupe stored props between shows and curled up on a box near a window where she could look out over the city. It was raining and she leaned forward to rest her head against the glass, cold leeching from it into her skin. She took Bucky's tags off and held them in one hand in her lap, her thumb running over them, feeling out the ridges of the letters that spelled out his name. A deep melancholy settled over her and she pressed harder against the glass, trying to figure out what direction Bucky's apartment was, and if she had the courage to go there to see if he'd written her. There was a part of her that felt she'd lose her mind from worry if she didn't hear news soon, but an equally large part of her was too afraid of bad news, or no news, to go and find out.

Someone cleared their throat and she jerked upright with a gasp, twisting to see Tony standing on the other side of the room.

"Sorry," he said, his voice apologetic, "they were asking for you downstairs. I said I'd look."

"It's okay." She swung her legs around and stood up. "I'll come down." She pulled the chain back around her neck, letting the tags fall against her chest.

He came and stood next to her, looking out the window. "Does it feel weird to be back home?"

"A little," Stephanie admitted. She pointed out into the city, telling him where she lived and then where Bucky lived. He gave her a sympathetic look.

"Have you heard from him?"

"No," Stephanie hesitated. "I don't -- I don't know. I haven't had the courage to check." She gave a small, nervous laugh. "If he did write the letters are probably fifteen minutes away but I'm too much of a chicken to go check." She clutched her hands together nervously. "What if there aren't any? Or worse -- what if," she took a deep breath and shut her eyes as she gave voice to her deepest horror. "What if there's an official letter? One that says -- you know and here I've been carrying on and doing the show and the whole time he's been--" Her voice cut off, literally incapable of voicing so horrific a possibility.

Tony hugged her. Stephanie started in surprise and then hugged him back, probably a little too hard as she heard him give a grunt of pain. She released him immediately and stepped back in embarrassment. She was always so careful with her strength, to the point she sometimes forgot altogether that she was a super soldier now, regardless of what Colonel Phillips said. "I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it," he said. "You've definitely got a grip there. Anyone ever tell you that?"

"It's been mentioned." she mumbled. None of them knew who she really was. As far as they knew she was just another actress hired to play a part.

"Well," Tony said, "I think I can offer you a little good news at least. Maybe anyway."

"Really?" Stephanie said, crossing her arms over her chest as she got herself back under control. "What's that?"

"We've been offered an overseas tour," Tony said, "specifically, entertaining the troops." He shrugged, "not sure who's bright idea it was to do a show selling bonds to a bunch of guys fighting on the front lines but--"

Stephanie's heart leapt so hard in her chest she thought it might burst out. "What did you tell them?" she whispered. "What was your answer?"

"I told them I'd have to talk it over with you seeing as how I doubt many of the men want to see me," Tony said wryly. "I'm guessing your answer will be--"

"Yes!" Stephanie shouted. She flinched and lowered her voice. "Yes," she repeated. "Yes, I want to go."

To go overseas, to have a chance to see Bucky, to at least find out if he was alright...

For Bucky to have a chance to see her.

Fear lanced through her but she pushed through it. If she ever wanted to see him again, and Lord knew she did, then he had to find out at some point. She had to believe he'd forgive her eventually. She prayed that he would. She just wished she could have stood before him and pointed out it had been worth it and she was making a difference, not that all the risks she'd taken had resulted in her being a glorified showgirl and pin up model.

She followed Tony downstairs with a new spring in her step at the thought of finally getting to go where she'd wanted to go all along. It wasn't _how_ she'd wanted to go, but at least it was something and if Bucky were anywhere near where she'd be preforming she was damn well going to see him.

She made her way into the lobby and greeted people with more enthusiasm than she had in a while, posing for photographs and signing those embarrassing posters.

At some point she lost track of Tony and figured he'd slipped away to retire, understandably worn out after the show. She stayed a bit longer, until the people started to leave and then headed back to the hotel as well. She'd just exited the cab and was hurrying toward the entrance when she heard a shout. She turned to see Tony jogging toward her, soaked with rain, a soggy cardboard box held in his hands. "Here," he said, thrusting the box into her hands. He tipped his hat and then was gone, vanishing into the hotel and leaving her standing in the entrance in confusion.

With a frown she walked through the entrance and went to her room. Once there she sat on the edge of her bed with the box in her lap, water soaking through her coat. The box was non-descript, just cardboard, no writing on the outside.

Carefully, she opened it, and saw a small stack of envelopes inside. She recognized the handwriting on the front immediately and let out a small gasp as if someone had punched her and knocked the air right out of her. Her entire body froze and it was nearly five minutes before she was able to force herself to reach out and, almost reverently, pull out the letters.

There was a small stack of them, Bucky's handwriting on the envelope spelling out her name.

Pushing the box onto the floor, she clutched the unopened letters in shaking hands and sucked in a breath that ended on a sob. She let herself slide off the edge of the bed to sit on the floor, her back against the mattress. She pulled her knees up, put her head down on her knees and cried in relief like she hadn't done since she was a child and fallen from a tree and broken her leg. She'd barely cried when it had happened but Bucky had been gone for the weekend, visiting relatives. Once he'd returned he'd spent over an hour lecturing her about doing stupid things when he wasn't there to do them with her. She'd responded by bursting into tears and throwing her arms around him, his absence while she was hurt almost worse than the injury itself. He'd spent the next several hours carefully decorating her cast with intricate doodles and the following weeks while she had it on playing card games, reading with her or acting out elaborate skits, complete with sticks as swords and stolen trash can lids as a shield, while she sat on the bed and shrieked with laughter at his antics.

It was some time before she set the stack down and carefully opened the first letter, letting out a sound that was half laugh, half sob at the sight of the doodles Bucky had scribbled over the margins of the letter.

She devoured them all, reading them over and over again well into the night. There was no hint he had any idea of what she'd done, no mention of Lady Liberty or Captain America at all in fact. He spoke of the trip over, the conditions of the camp, the other soldiers he'd met.

He said nothing about the fighting but she read it between the lines, saw the way the more recent letters were darker than the older ones, the writing sloppier. He assumed she wasn't getting his letters, and that he wasn't getting hers in return. His growing worry over her practically bled through the ink and Stephanie felt a deep, burning shame at the thought she'd never written him in the first place.

She set the last letter down, noting the postmark and feeling a mix of fear and hope. Hope because it meant he'd been alive and well not too long ago, fear because it was more than long enough for that to have changed.

But it wouldn't be much longer now. She gripped his tags and laid down, curling up around the letters spread out around her on the floor. It wouldn't be long. She was going over there and she was going to find him if it was the last thing she did. And, once she did, just let them try to make her leave.

***

The next morning, she went downstairs to breakfast and found Tony already seated. She pulled him up and hugged him. It was five minutes before she let him go, only to decide it wasn't long enough so she hugged him for another ten. She knew it wouldn't do much to discourage the rumors that bored people had started to spread about just how close she and Tony really were, rumors the producers actively encouraged because they thought it was just one more way to help the show, but she didn't care.

Neither did Tony.

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'm going to write a FemBucky story and follow her through the war too. It'll be quite different and also EPIC. :D :D

Stephanie wasn't foolish enough to complain but she did wonder, as Tony had, about who had thought doing a tour for the troops would be a good idea. They were already serving, in awful conditions with the threat of death ever present. The last thing they were going to want to do was give even more to buy war bonds. Particularly given that the bonds were intended to help _them._ It wasn't much help if they were being required to buy it themselves.

She found out rather quickly just how right she was. The troops didn't like Tony and regularly booed him right off the stage during his speech. He treated it with his general optimism, acting as if the show were a comedy and that was the expected reaction from the crowd. The producers even got in on it, creating a second number for her and the girls to preform after he left.

The soldiers were much happier to see her and the girls.

Given the conditions they were forced to endure, Stephanie did her best for them. She'd put on as big a smile as possible during her performance and readily mingled with the troops after the shows. Many of the man seemed to have those embarrassing posters of her and she would sign them and force herself to laugh when they would make suggestive remarks about how she looked in them. She found out quickly that, over here, she was seen as even more of an icon, and less a person, than she was in the States. Rather than Lady Liberty the symbol of freedom, however, she was far more Lady Liberty the pin up girl. She'd known the producers had been sending out the posters to the soldiers in massive stacks but knowing it and seeing it were two different things. There was no way Bucky hadn't at least seen one and she cringed at the thought of him finding out the identity of the girl in them.

An unfortunate side effect of those stupid pictures was a number of the men believed her to be a certain type of woman and had certain expectations of her when they met. After getting groped for the fourth or fifth time, and having at least two guys get aggressive and then angry when she wouldn't respond the way they wanted, Tony started coming out and staying next to her as they greeted people. The various camps also assigned soldiers to her and the girls to keep an eye on things and make sure no one got out of hand. Stephanie had dealt with the same sort of problem in the States, to a lesser extent as many of those guys had women in their lives who would _not_ approve. As always, she was annoyed by the fact she wasn't allowed to protect herself when she was more than capable.

Luckily, the majority of the men treated her and the girls with nothing but kindness and respect. Whenever they performed near a town or village she and some of the girls, with Tony as their escort, would accept an invitation for a drink or a dance at the local tavern. This usually led to a large group forming, with her, the girls, and a resigned Tony in the middle. Every now and then someone would have a bit too much to drink, or would simply be a jerk to begin with, but they were always dealt with by Tony or the other men before anything could escalate.

As the days passed and they moved closer to the front she began to see just how bad things really were. The news reels at home, she realized, focused on the soldiers who were stationed farther back, often well out of the action. They were shown happy and fit, in clean clothes and dry conditions, ever ready to charge ahead into battle.

The reality was, this close to the front at least, the men were exhausted and run down. They would sit in cold mud and on the hard ground to watch her, their clothing woefully inadequate to the weather. Stephanie stayed in each location for only a few days but, even in that short time, it was long enough to see men sitting in the crowd cheering her one day, and in body bags the next.

With so much new fodder for her imagination the nightmares she had about Bucky grew a thousand times worse. She saw his eyes staring vacantly from a body bag, his body blown to pieces on the battlefield, or sitting shell shocked and vacant in a corner, the man she knew barely recognizable after exposure to the horrors of war. She searched for him everywhere, and with each new day bringing no sign and no word she began to despair she would ever see him again. She watched as a few of the girls grew close to men they met in various camps, promising to write and keep in touch after leaving, and had to resist the urge to warn them about the future of constant worry they were setting themselves up for.

A few soldiers approached her, young, single men who actually realized there was a flesh and blood woman underneath the costume and makeup. Stephanie always turned them down politely and was surprised when the response she got from a few of them was along the lines of, "yeah, I'd heard you weren't available but I was kind of hoping it was just a rumor."

At first she thought that they had somehow found out about her marriage to Bucky but she soon realized the rumors of her and Tony being involved had reached even here, rumors which were only aided by him basically becoming her personal bodyguard and escort as they moved through the camps. He sat with her at meals and escorted her to her tent at the end of the day, often throwing an arm across her shoulders which was fine with her as they were friends but was wildly misinterpreted by others. Stephanie stopped trying to correct the misconception after finding people didn't believe her and a handful felt she was assuring them she was single because she was interested in a relationship with them. She finally just let them think whatever they wished though she would still deny it if directly asked. She had always prided herself on being honest.

A few weeks into the tour they ended up in a small encampment at the absolute front of the fighting. It was so close, in fact, that they were expressly warned, and shown on a map, where they could and could not go. The last thing the powers that be wanted was Lady Liberty or Captain America accidentally stumbling into enemy territory and getting themselves captured, or worse. Such a thing would not make for a good headline back home.

Stephanie had thought conditions were bad before this camp but now realized that was only because she hadn't been to this one yet. The mud was ankle deep from rain, the men ragged and haunted, and an almost constant line of wounded and dead were brought into the medical tent. They planned to be there three days before starting to circle back in, hitting camps they hadn't been to yet before arriving back to their ship and heading home.

She still hadn't found Bucky. No one seemed to know him and no one could tell her the movements of the 107th which made sense as any information about troop movements would be kept as secret as possible but it didn't make it any easier to hear. The other girls, who didn't know about Bucky, but knew she was looking for someone all tried to console her and offer her encouragement. On their last stop when she'd found herself sitting on the edge of the stage, staring into nothing while holding Bucky's tags, Tony had come and sat next to her. He hadn't offered well-intentioned but ultimately empty platitudes but had simply sat next to her and kept her company. It had been enough to raise her flagging spirits for their next visit but, now that she'd seen it and just how bad it was, they were quickly falling again.

She didn't _want_ to find Bucky in this camp, not with conditions this bad.

It rained almost constantly on their first day forcing them to postpone the performance several times. There was finally a brief break toward late afternoon, allowing the men to huddle together on wet, muddy ground, to watch her and the girls dance. The girls were freezing in their outfits and were only too happy to dance and warm up as best they could. Tony, as had become the norm, was not well received but, as usual, didn't let it get him down. As he'd told her after their first show, if he was surrounded by men all day every day in awful conditions he'd also prefer seeing pretty girls rather than another man trying to get him to give even more than he already had. Soon after the show ended the skies opened up again and they retreated to wait for it to end before they tried to get in one final show for the day.

Stephanie went to the small tent next to the stage where the props were stored and where they all waited to load onto stage during shows. She settled down onto a short bench and dug out her sketchpad from where she'd shoved it under one of the prop helmets. She'd used to draw all the time but hadn't had much time, or energy, since becoming Lady Liberty. In the last town they'd been in she'd managed to get ahold of a pad of paper and had idly started sketching in it when she had the chance. She'd forgotten how relaxing it was and brought the pad with her to the stage earlier in the hopes she might get a chance to use it.

Bucky had actually been the one to really get her started in it. As a child she'd always enjoyed watching him doodle on anything and everything and had wished out loud that she could draw too. Paper was expensive, however, and her parents hadn't had a lot to spare to spend on something as frivolous as drawing supplies. She'd been stunned when, for her birthday later that year, Bucky had surprised her with a full pad of paper and a set of pencils. He'd always steadfastly refused to stay how he'd managed to get it and she'd eventually stopped asking. It remained one of the best presents she'd ever received.

It was fitting then, she supposed, that she was sketching him, not as she feared he might look now, but as she'd last seen him, happy and full of life.

"Aren't you cold?"

Stephanie jumped and looked up to see, of all people, Agent Carter standing over her.

"I don't feel the cold as easily anymore," she responded, her voice cool. "What are you doing here, Agent Carter?"

The other woman sat on the edge of the stage with a frown. "I thought I told you to call me Peggy."

"I thought you'd stick up for me instead of turning your back and walking away," Stephanie responded, turning back to her sketch. "Guess we were both wrong."

Agent Carter was silent and Stephanie focused back on her work, expecting the other woman to leave.

"I'm sorry," Carter said finally. "I knew Colonel Phillips wasn't going to listen to anything I had to say right then. I thought if I waited until he cooled down, he might be more open, but by then Brandt had already gotten to you." She hesitated and then added, "I do apologize for just leaving. I should have at least said good-bye."

"Yes," Stephanie agreed, studying the paper, "you should have." She tapped the end of her pencil against the pad a moment before relenting. "Your apology is accepted." It had hurt but, in the end, it wasn't Agent Carter's responsibility to stand up for her or to try and save her from her own choices. "What are you doing here?"

"Officially I'm not here," Peggy said cryptically. She nodded at the picture. "Is that him? The one who gave you his tags?"

Automatically, Stephanie reached up to wrap her hand around the tags where they lay against her collarbone. Since they'd come overseas she'd taken to clutching them during the show when fake Hitler attacked her, and after as Tony did his spiel. The producers loved it, claiming it symbolized Lady Liberty's desire for her troops to protect her.

To Stephanie it just represented her desire to see Bucky again.

"Yeah," she said quietly, running a hand lightly over the picture, as if she could somehow touch him through it. It was a close up portrait of him, his head slightly raised and his eyes staring off into the distance, the barest hint of a smirk on his face. "That's him."

Carter studied the picture. "He's quite attractive."

Stephanie snorted. Everyone always commented on his looks, often without bothering to get to know his soul which, in her opinion, was five times more attractive. "So he's been told, by more than one woman."

Carter gave her an appraising look. "But none of them appealed to him?"

"Not yet," Stephanie said with a shrug. "I guess he hasn't found the one yet."

"Or perhaps he has," Carter said, "and just hasn't told her yet."

Stephanie frowned, a sense of disquiet settling over her for reasons she couldn't explain. "I doubt it, unless he's met someone over here."

Carter didn't have a chance to respond as they were both distracted by the arrival of a truck pulling up outside the medical tent. The back door of the truck opened and she saw men being pulled out on stretchers, their bodies limp and mangled.

"They look like they've been through hell," Stephanie said.

"These men more than most," Carter agreed. "Schmidt sent a force to Azzano. Two hundred men stood against him, fifty came back." She nodded over her shoulder to where, not so long ago, a group had sat to watch her show. "Your audience contained what was left of the 107th. The rest were killed or captured."

Stephanie sucked in a strangled breath as if someone had punched her in the stomach. Her hands clenched into fists and she actually felt the blood drain from her face, the cold surrounding her suddenly cutting deep into her bones like the blade of a knife.

Carter frowned. "What's wrong? Stephanie, what--" her own eyes widened as understanding dawned. "No."

Stephanie was already up and moving. Carter tried to keep up but Stephanie wasn't waiting. She sprinted toward the command tent. She'd known Colonel Phillips was present but had avoided him for fear her emotions would get the best of her and she might end up being arrested for punching a superior officer. She was still enlisted and could face discipline, which she had no doubt Phillips would be thrilled to hand out. He'd wanted her stuck in a lab, not prancing across a stage.

By the time she reached the tent a loud ringing had started in her head and it felt like she'd almost stepped out of her body, like she was standing by and watching some other person confront Phillips. Some other person asking about some other soldier because it couldn't be her. It couldn't be Bucky. She couldn't have worked and hoped and prayed and _searched_ for so long for this to be the outcome.

Please, this couldn't be how it ended.

She'd expected Phillips to have her thrown out and was prepared to stand her ground and demand an answer, no matter the cost.

To her surprise, Phillips gave her a look that almost might have been compassionate, picked up a sheaf of papers and turned his back to her.

He turned his back.

Stephanie began to nearly hyperventilate, her hands spastically opening and closing into fists and a tremor started to run through her.

He turned his _back_.

He couldn't face her.

She knew what he was going to say before he said it.

"The name does sound familiar. I'm sorry."

She staggered and braced her hands on the desk as her legs partly buckled under her. It felt like the words had actually drained the life out of her.

_The name does sound familiar._

_I'm sorry._

_Sorry._

There was a letter in that stack he held. A letter addressed to his parents and his sister. She had no doubt how it started.

Sorry.

We regret to inform you.

A letter, reducing the sum of Bucky's life to black words on a white page. She wouldn't even have known, she realized now, because the marriage had happened after he was drafted and she doubted he'd bothered to change his contact information to include his fake wife. The letter would have gone to his family and she'd have gone about her life and never even known.

Sorry.

_"The rest were killed, or captured."_

Her mind ran to a halt and she sucked in a breath as Peggy's words ran through her mind.

Killed...or captured.

Captured.

"His body," she managed to get out, the words wrenched through gritted teeth. "Did you find him? Is he here?"

Please say no, her mind whispered desperately, please, please, please say no.

"No," Phillips said.

Stephanie let out a harsh breath that was nearly a sob and dropped into a crouch, crossing her arms on his desk and resting her head on them.  

He was still alive, she told herself. He had to be. She couldn't accept him being dead. A world with him gone from her side was bad enough but a world with him _gone_? She couldn't fathom it.

A wild, irrational hope sprang up inside her and she clung to it the way a man dying in the desert might to an oasis spotted in the distance, even with the understanding it could well be nothing more than a mirage.

"I want to be part of the rescue effort," she said, pushing upright and making eye contact with Phillips.

"There won't be one," Phillips said shortly.

Stephanie's opened her mouth to argue only to follow Phillips' finger to a map, to where it was believed the prisoners were being held, and to everything that lay between.

Thirty miles of enemy territory.

Thirty. Thirty miles of enemy soldiers, tanks, rockets, and no guarantee the prisoners were even still alive or that a rescue would be successful.

So they weren't going to attempt one. Phillips was going to leave them where they were. That's why they were sending the letters, condolence letters, not your loved one might be a POW but your loved one is dead, never coming back, gone.

Sorry.

They didn't know. They didn't know if Bucky was dead, not for sure, but they weren't going to say that. No one was going to admit to a family that their loved one might be alive but was being abandoned, and that the letter they were given might well be true by war's end.

Bucky had given everything, for her, and for his country, and all he was getting in return was a letter and an excuse.

_Sorry._

Her mind flashed back to Bucky's face after he'd stood up to a bully for her when they were just kids. How his face, battered and bruised, had been twisted in anxiety as he asked if _she_ was alright.

He'd always been like that, always putting others ahead of himself, more concerned for what someone else was going through than for what he was going through.

Dimly, as if she were down a long hall listening to someone half a building away, she heard Phillips still talking, laying out all his excuses, about how they would lose more men than they would save if they mounted a rescue, how they didn't have the resources, how there was no proof anyone was even there to be saved. He might feel mildly sorry for her but she wasn't foolish enough to believe he cared what she thought about his choice. He wasn't talking to her and he certainly wasn't trying to convince her.

He was trying to convince himself.

_"I want you to marry me before I go."_

Not because Bucky had been in love with her, but because he _loved_ her and wanted to be there for her in whatever way he could even when he was overseas fighting in a war.

And in return he got abandoned because the risks were too high, the possibility of him being alive too low?

Like _hell_ he did.

"I don't expect you to understand," Phillips was saying, "because you're just a chorus girl."

Her eyes narrowed and Stephanie felt herself go still, calm sweeping over her. "I understand just fine."

"Then understand it somewhere else," Phillips said shortly. She made it real for him. Without her they were just names on a list, not men, not people with loved ones waiting for them at home. He could pretend he wasn't abandoning men, just names, black ink on white paper.

She understood to some extent. He had a lot of men under his command. He had to make sacrifices, hard ones.

She didn't.

If Bucky was alive, and please God let him be alive, then she damn well wasn't letting his only reward be imprisonment and death.

Sorry? Like hell.

Sorry wasn't good enough.

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter a day early! :D

Stepping outside the tent felt strange. The day was too bright, the chatter of the men too loud, and she couldn't understand how it all just kept...going. She'd just been told Bucky might be dead and the world simply continued as if the news didn't affect it at all. Surely that was all the evidence she needed that he was still alive, right? The world couldn't continue to move if he were gone. It just...couldn't, so he had to be alive. It was the only possibility she was willing to accept.

Still, Phillips' words, telling her Bucky was undoubtedly gone...that soul crushing letter in his hand...it all refused to stop running in an undercurrent through her mind. She felt removed from the world around her, like she was in a movie theater, waiting for Bucky to join her, watching a news reel of day to day army life on the front lines. Her emotions felt...dulled, as if smothered in cotton or pushed somewhere deep inside her.

He was probably dead, part of her mind informed her coldly, and she shook her head as if she could physically dislodge the thought.

He wasn't.

He wasn't dead because she couldn't stand him being dead. She didn't know how to face the rest of her life without him in it. She was barely in her twenties. If she lived to her eighties it would mean sixty years without Bucky compared to twenty with him. He'd become a footnote in her personal history, faded with time, a long lost childhood friend who'd once meant the world to her...back when her world had barely started.

She didn't want that. She didn't want him to fade with the passage of time. She didn't want to have to listen to people telling her to _move on_ and leave him behind.

She didn't want to move on.

She _wouldn't_.

Because he damn well wasn't _dead._

The pessimistic voice in her mind, that sounded suspiciously like Phillips, finally shut the hell up and she started to walk with a renewed purpose. She got all of five feet before she stumbled to a stop with the realization that she didn't know where she was going. She shut her eyes and focused on breathing, clenching and unclenching her hands as she forced herself to think. Bucky wasn't going to be helped by her running off into the woods like a crazed lunatic.

First things first. She was wearing her Lady Liberty costume. Clearly she couldn't march behind enemy lines dressed like that. For one thing, nylons were rationed and if she destroyed the ones she had on the powers that be would probably make her pay for them. Her civilian clothes weren't made for blending into the landscape so they wouldn't work either. She briefly considered Tony's clothing but ended up dismissing that idea as well. Tony was built like an ox and even with her serum enhanced body she wasn't going to be able to fit anything he owned. She'd look like a child playing dress up in in her father's clothing.

Her eyes opened and she frowned as she watched soldiers walk past her, some nodding at her, others seeming to understand she needed her space and giving it to her. For not the first time she felt frustration at the Army's refusal to give her a uniform of her own, preferring instead to pretend she didn't actually belong to them. The pants and long sleeved sweaters many of the men were wearing would be perfect, warm and easy to move in and dark enough to blend into the landscape, but she highly doubted any of them would be willing to share their spares with her. Even the dress uniforms a few were wearing, identical to the one Bucky had worn when he shipped out, would work, possibly even better as it had a heavy wool jacket that went with it.

A thought occurred to her and she felt her eyes widen. Bucky...she had to be about his size now, right? She doubted her body was shaped quite like his was but surely she'd be close enough to be able to wear his clothes. Her eyes turned to the rows and rows of tent serving as makeshift barracks for the men.

This was the camp the 107th had been assigned to before they'd marched to Azzano. If that were the case, it would stand to reason Bucky's footlocker would be there. He had to have had a second uniform, or better yet, his dress uniform. She doubted he'd worn it to go fight.

With the beginnings of a plan forming she felt her spirits start to rise. As she turned to head in the direction of the tents she saw a young man with light brown hair and dark eyes standing awkwardly a few feet away. He was younger than she was, which meant he either barely made the age requirement to enlist or he'd lied to get in. When he saw her looking he jerked nervously and gave her a tentative grin.

"Sorry to bother you, Miss Liberty," he said, haltingly. "I couldn't help but notice you seem to be upset. Is there anything I could help you with?"

Stephanie started to turn him down, only to pause as her eyes caught on the sheer number of rows and the overall number of identical brown tents. She assumed there was some order to it all but had no idea what it was and didn't have the time to learn.

Forcing a tight smile, she said, "I just found out a friend of mine was..." she stumbled over how to say it and finally settled on, "he didn't come back from Azzano." She didn't have to pretend to have a waver in her voice as she added. "I thought maybe he might have left a letter for me in his footlocker but I don't know where it is."

"I could help you find it," the young man said, his eyes lighting up at the chance to help the one and only Lady Liberty. He held a hand out, "I'm Ford. Private Ford Jackson."

He sounded so proud. Stephanie grabbed his hand and shook it. "Pleased to meet you, Private Jackson."

Ford smiled at her. "Let's go find where your guy's footlocker is. What's his name?"

She almost blurted out Bucky but stopped herself at the last second. "Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes."

"A sergeant," Ford muttered, his spirits clearing dropping just a bit. "Okay, that narrows it down. I know where we can start asking." He held an arm out. "The ground is pretty muddy and uneven, ma'am. You might have trouble navigating it in those boots." He flushed suddenly and hurriedly said, "not that there's anything wrong with them of course. They're very attractive -- I mean, you are too of course, but--"

Stephanie took his arm before he could dig himself any deeper. "Thank you, Ford. I appreciate your help."

He positively beamed at her and, without another word, turned toward the tents and started leading her toward a section of tents near the back of the camp.

Stephanie had to tell herself five different times not to hurry him along. He hadn't been lying about the ground being uneven, the wet mud sucking at her feet and causing her to trip up a few times as her boots caught or slid in it. Each time he steadied her and she smiled at him in gratitude before making herself walk slowly and deliberately.

She wouldn't be much help to Bucky with a broken ankle.

***

She barely registered the attention she got walking through the camp. Men came to the entrances of their tents to watch her pass by and Ford practically grew two feet with pride as he stopped periodically to ask about Bucky. It did occur to Stephanie that a young man leading her through rows of tents probably did little to get rid of the stigma she'd gotten from being on a pin up poster but she didn't care enough to do anything about it. She'd have walked through the damn camp naked if it would have gotten her to Bucky faster. She would have then immediately died from shame and mortification but she still would have done it.

They stopped in front of a tent that looked no different from any other tent. An older man came to the entrance and, before Ford could say anything, Stephanie said, "I'm looking for--" again she stumbled, unable to call Bucky's belongings his personal effects. Personal effects suggested he wasn't coming back and she wasn't okay with that. She reached up to her neck and pulled the dog tags off, holding them out to the man as evidence that she knew Bucky. "Sergeant Barnes' footlocker. I'm Stephanie--"

"Rogers?" the man cut in, catching one of the tags and glancing at it before letting it go. "Huh, guess the kid wasn't exaggerating after all."

Before Stephanie could ask what he was talking about he turned to look back inside the tent. "Hey guys, guess what? Turns out the girl Barnes never shut up about is none other than Lady Liberty herself."

Stephanie put the tags back on with one hand, her other still clasped around Ford's arm. Several men filed to the opening, all staring at her like they hadn't just seen her in a show a few hours earlier.

"Man," one of them, a skinny young man with ash blonde hair muttered. "I thought he was making it up."

"Lucky bastard," another, as young as Ford with coal black hair said.

"If he were lucky," the older man who'd called them interjected, "he'd have come back from Azzano."

Stephanie flinched. The older man leaned over to speak to his two comrades and then, together, they all filed out and stood respectively to the side.

"He was in the cot on the far end, ma'am," she was told. "With all the chaos from Azzano they haven't come around to collect everything yet. We'll give you some time."

"Thank you," Stephanie gently released Ford's arm and nodded at him. "I won't keep you any longer."

"Are you sure?" Ford said, clearly wanting to be kept much longer. "It's a long walk back. Maybe you shouldn't go alone."

"She'll be fine," the older man said, his arms folded across his chest. "Barnes was a friend of ours. You think we'd let something happen to his girl?"

Ford flushed, embarrassed. "Of course not. I'm sorry."

He started to back up, only to stop as Stephanie put her hands on his shoulders and leaned forward to kiss him lightly on the forehead. "Thank you, Ford," she said again. "I couldn't have done this without you."

His face went red and he backed away, stammering how he was happy to help.

Stephanie turned away from him and gave a nod of thanks to the three men, not bothering to correct their misconceptions about being Bucky's girl. If he'd talked about her it was because they were one another's best friends and had grown up together. It was like she'd told Tony, there were few stories that could be told that didn't feature the two of them together. Taking the time to try and correct the misunderstanding would only waste time Bucky didn't have.

She stepped through the opening and the flaps fell closed behind her, the older man having released them to give her as much privacy as possible. It became stuffy almost immediately but she didn't care.

The tent wasn't very large, not considering the number of men who slept in it. There were several narrow cots on metal frames that kept the thin mattresses and ratty blankets just off the ground, which was wet from the rain leeching in from outside. At the foot of each bed was a small footlocker, all looking identical to one another, including the one at the far end.

Stephanie held her breath as she approached the neatly made bed and small locker. It was the closest she'd physically been to Bucky in months and it was with an almost reverence that she crouched down in front of the locker.

Carefully she put her hands on either side of the lid and lifted, pushing it open with a quiet squeak of rusty hinges.

The first thing she spotted was exactly what she'd been hoping to find, the jacket for his dress uniform. She picked it up and pressed it to her face, inhaling and almost bursting into tears on the spot as she caught the faintest hint of the cologne he always liked to use. For a brief second she had the strongest urge to lay down on his cot, wrap herself around his jacket and never move again.

She didn't, because doing so would mean she was grieving and grief meant accepting he was most likely dead and she _wasn't_ going to do that.

She just wasn't.

Instead she laid the jacket across her bent knees and went back to the locker. She quickly found the pants, belt and shirt that went with it, as well as what was probably his extra pair of military grade boots that probably would need to be stuffed with newspaper to fit but they were better than the silver, heeled knee boots she was currently wearing. She left the tie as she seriously doubted Hydra would care whether or not she had it on and it was extraneous to what she needed. She also left his hat behind. She knew it probably smelled of the pomade he swore by and if, by chance, she didn't return she wanted to make sure his family had something that smelled like him the way his jacket did. Something to bring him back to them, if only for a moment.

There was little else in his locker. A shaving kit, paper, envelopes and pencils to write letters with. She caught sight of a what looked like a photo under the paper and hesitantly grabbed the edge and pulled it out.

There were two pictures. The first was of his parents and his sister.

The second was of the two of them. It was a shot from a few years earlier, on a trip to Coney Island. There had been a man there taking pictures and Bucky had wanted one. Stephanie had felt it far too expensive and a waste of money but he'd insisted and she'd given in as she usually did when it came to things that made him happy. She had her arms wrapped around his waist, hugging him, and he had an arm across her shoulders, pulling her in close. It had been cold that day, she remembered, a brisk wind blowing her hair back.

The sight of the picture almost did her in, summoning a wave of pain that instantly brought tears to her eyes and had her sucking in a shuddering breath that ended on a near sob. She leaned forward over the footlocker until she could press her forehead against the photo.

"Don't be gone," she whispered, her voice a plea. "Please, please, please don't be gone."

She forced herself to sit back on her heels again a few minutes later, reaching up a hand to scrub at her eyes. Her legs were beginning to cramp from being crouched down so she shakily put the pictures back and shut the lid. She gathered up the clothes, wrapping the jacket around them to make a small bundle, and got to her feet. Immediately the feeling of pins and needles started up in her legs as the blood got going again and she grimaced at the discomfort.

She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly and calmly, put her head up and strode out of the tent, the clothes held in one arm pressed tight against her side.

"I'll bring them back," she said to the men standing outside and then proceeded to stride straight past them without a look back.

None of them tried to stop her. They did, however, trail behind her, serving as an escort. It only took a few steps for her to stumble for the first time and she immediately felt her free hand gently taken and placed firmly on the older man's bicep. She smiled at him in thanks and held on, her footsteps steadier with him to brace her. They stayed with her until she was back in the commons and away from the makeshift barriers. They then all politely saluted her and made their way back to their tent.

Bucky had always had good taste in friends.

***

Evening was beginning to fall, the shadows growing longer as she made it back to the small tent set up for her private use. On the one hand it was a good thing as it meant she could move about easier without people noticing. On the other hand, it also meant Tony, who'd accepted a ride into town with some of the men, would undoubtedly soon return at which point the producers would probably want to put on a second show. She'd already caught sight of a handful of stage workers carrying lights and other equipment needed for an outdoor, night show.

She ducked into her tent and barely paused at the sight of Peggy sitting in a chair at the small table Stephanie had been using as a desk. Without pause, Stephanie put the clothes down on the cot and quickly stripped down to her underclothes, keeping her back to the other woman.

Peggy didn't say a word as Stephanie pulled on the pants, and dress shirt. As suspected, she was roughly Bucky's height so the sleeves and pant legs were long enough but that was where the similarities ended. Bucky's shoulders were much broader than hers, his hips narrower and his feet were clearly several sizes larger. She grabbed a paper she'd been reading that morning and shredded it, stuffing pieces into the shoes to improve the fit before pulling the laces as tight as possible. Once done she stood up and faced Peggy, buttoning the shirt and tucking it into her pants as she did. She left the collar undone as, without the tie, there was really no reason to have it closed all the way up her neck.

As she grabbed the jacket and pulled it on, Peggy sighed. "I was really hoping you'd come to your senses," she started. "Stephanie, you can't do this. It's a suicide mission. The odds of him still being alive--"

"Did I ever mention I married him?" Stephanie put the belt on and realized she wasn't going to be able to get it tight enough to keep her pants up under the jacket. There had probably been a second belt, she realized now, for the pants but she hadn't known to look for it and hadn't seen it in the locker. Of course, it was also possible Bucky had only received one belt for his pants and was currently wearing the thing. With a frown she stepped past Peggy to grab her letter opener. She'd bought it to open her fan mail back in the States but all that was being held for her return so she'd had little use for it over here. With a silent apology to Bucky, she punched a few more holes into the leather and pulled it snug on her waist. She replaced the knife and tugged the jacket down, adjusting the fit as best she could. It was far from perfect but definitely better than anything else she could have chosen and the wool it was made from would keep her relatively warm. With the serum she might not feel the cold as much anymore but that didn't mean she didn't feel it at all.

Peggy was staring at her wide eyed in shock. "He's not in love with me," Stephanie explained. "He wanted to make sure I was taken care of after he was gone is all." She pulled the hair band out of her hair, shaking out the curls and tendrils the show always put in to soften the look, and redid her hair in a low bun at the nape of her neck, needing it out of the way of a helmet. "Can you believe that guy?" she said, managing a short laugh. "He's being sent off to get shot at and what's he worried about? Me." She faced Peggy with a determined look. "There's no army in this world that's going to keep me from getting to him."

She brushed past the other woman and left the tent. It was now dark enough that no one gave her particular notice as she went to the prop tent. Tony wasn't back as the call hadn't gone out for them to get ready so she was able to go inside and grab a prop helmet. She grabbed Tony's shield as almost an afterthought, snatching it off the shelf as she headed back out. She felt relief that she was getting out before he got back. Peggy wasn't wrong about how dangerous her plan was and the last thing she wanted was to drag Tony into it. She had no doubt he'd have insisted on going with her if he'd been there.

Now that she was outfitted, she mentally moved onto the second part of her plan, figuring out how to get there. If she had to walk she would but she hoped one of the jeeps parked around the camp might be unattended, and possibly have its keys left out.

She strode out of the tent...and nearly ran into Peggy who was standing just outside.

"Are you planning to stop me?" she asked.

"I doubt I could." Peggy took the helmet from Stephanie and then the shield, frowning at how lightweight it was. "I'm here to help you, come on."

***

Apparently Howard Stark was in the area, and had a plane.

A plane he was willing to fly into enemy territory to get Stephanie as close as possible to where she wanted to go. She couldn't fathom why the man was willing to go to such lengths but the near giddy way with which he greeted her, combined with how serious he got once they started, suggested he might just be an adrenaline junkie with a hero complex.

The possibility did not necessarily inspire confidence. She wasn't sure what she was more worried about, the possible enemy weapons fire they might draw or the fact that Stark was flying. In the end she couldn't help but point it out, along with the fact she'd seen him and his exhibit at the expo all those months ago.

"Hey," Stark said, "those cars got off the ground didn't they?"

"It's the staying up I'm worried about," Stephanie said dryly.

"Everybody's a critic," he said with good humor.

They got off the ground without issue and Howard did prove to be a capable pilot. Stephanie's only complaint was it wasn't possible to make the plane move faster. Her muscles were wound tight with the effort of restraining herself from getting out and trying to push the plane herself. Her foot was twitching and her hand was tapping on her thigh repetitively. She wanted to _be_ there already.

Peggy spread out a map and explained where the facility was and what they believed it to be. Phillips had said something about a weapons facility and Peggy agreed, though she had no idea what kind of weapons it was producing.

"From our reports," she said, her voice grim, "they took Azzano with one tank."

"One?" Stephanie said in surprise. "What kind of tank was it?"

"Not one you want to meet," Peggy responded, "and it'll probably be there. You need to be careful."

They would be dropping Stephanie off as close as they could and were giving her a transponder to call them with when she was ready to return.

They both knew the odds of being able to fly in a second time were somewhere between slim and none. Stephanie thought possibly the transponder was more for Peggy's peace of mind, so she could convince herself later that she hadn't just dropped Stephanie behind enemy lines and left her. Stephanie had a feeling that if the other woman truly believed, not just hoped or had faith but believed, in Stephanie's ability to get back home she'd have offered to go with her. Stephanie would have refused her of course, but the fact the other woman hadn't offered at all was telling. Stephanie didn't blame her; it wasn't Peggy's best friend being held prisoner after all, and it wasn't like Peggy and Howard weren't doing more than enough as it was.

"You're going to be in a lot of trouble when you land," she said now. She hesitated, the words thank you seeming woefully inadequate to what Peggy and Stark were risking for her.

The plane rocked and Stephanie looked out the window to see explosions and tracer fire lighting up the sky as ground forces fired on the plane.

"That's my cue," she announced, standing up.

"No," Peggy said. "We're taking you all the way in."

Stephanie ignored her. She couldn't bring herself to stand still anymore anyway. She moved to the open door and sat in it, her legs dangling over the edge. It was a long way down and while she understood logically how a parachute worked she'd never actually used one before and then there was the whole thing about parachuting through enemy fire to think about. Not to mention she hadn't exactly made a habit of jumping out of planes prior to this and her brain was loudly, and vehemently, telling her how bad an idea it was. Her heart was quite firmly lodged in her throat and her stomach was doing cartwheels as she looked down.

As she crouched at the open door, Peggy grabbed her arm. "If he isn't there," she said, her eyes locked on Stephanie, "you come back anyway, do you hear me?"

"Why wouldn't I?" Stephanie asked, defensive even as she privately admitted the other woman was more intuitive than Stephanie had given her credit for.

Peggy gave her a "what kind of idiot do you take me for" look and Stephanie conceded that parachuting, for the first time; out of a plane, for the first time; at night into enemy anti-aircraft fire on the prayer that Bucky might have been captured and might still be alive wasn't not exactly suggestive of rational thinking.

Not that she cared. If Bucky was really dead she highly doubted she would ever think rationally again.

"As soon as I'm clear you turn around and get out of here," she ordered Peggy.

"You can't give me orders," the other woman shouted back, the wind whipping away her words.

"The hell I can't," Stephanie retorted with an overconfident grin. "We both know who the real Captain America is, so guess that means I outrank you!"

She threw the other woman a mock salute and, then, before she could talk herself out of it, pushed out.

***

So she survived her first jump from a plane, into enemy territory, while being shot at.

That was...unexpected to say the least.

It was also exhilarating.

Her landing was a bit hard and she might have fallen, and rolled, and only stopped moving when she hit a tree, which hurt; but there was no one around to see it so she'd be certainly telling a better version when recounting it later.

She got disentangled from her chute and looked up to watch as the plane carrying Peggy and Stark soared back to safety, enemy fire chasing it.

They looked like they were going to make it and Stephanie relaxed. Now if only things could go just as well for her.

She hooked her sort of shield over her back, ducked low and started running. It was dark, foggy and the woods were dense so she had to go slow but she didn't mind. When it came down to it she couldn't have asked for better conditions and terrain. Had she had to approach across a large plain on a clear night with a full moon she highly doubted she'd have made it.

It didn't take her long to find the facility, it had giant searchlights trained on the road leading into it. Clearly subtlety was not one of Hydra's strong suits. She spotted the glare through the trees and was soon crouched behind one, watching the giant lights as they revolved about the area. She could go around and try to get up the wall outside their radius. She wasn't sure if she could jump that height or not but she didn't see any guards or dogs on the outside so there shouldn't be any harm trying.

Before she could the low sound of a car engine reached her ears and she twisted to see a long convoy of trucks heading toward the gate.

Okay, new plan.

As the last truck in the line passed she leapt to her feet and darted forward, grabbing the back end and lifting up to roll neatly into the back of the truck, under the tarp covering it.

She pushed into a crouch, quite proud of herself, only to freeze as she found herself staring at two masked men looking back at her.

One of them looked to the side and she followed his gaze to see a large poster of Lady Liberty plastered to the inside of the tarp.

"Oh, come on!" Stephanie said in exasperation. "Even you guys?"

The fact they were apparently fans of hers did not stop them from trying to capture her, or her from laying them both out at her feet.

It was outright _cathartic._

"Take that, Brandt," she muttered, tying the two together with twine from the boxes the truck was transporting.

She heard the screech of the gate opening and, a few seconds later, felt the truck slowing down and carefully backing up to a stop.

She knelt and pulled her shield off, crouching low behind it.

The tarp was pulled back and she slammed the man standing there with the shield, sending him flying backward. No one else appeared behind him so she quickly jumped out, sending a silent prayer of gratitude that her luck seemed to be holding and she hadn't been spotted yet.

She darted forward to a corner of the building the trucks had pulled up to and peered around to find herself looking at a sizable yard filled with all manner of tanks and other military vehicles. Beyond she could see several buildings laid out near one another.

Her heart sank. Bucky could be in any of those, or none at all, and every second longer that it took was one second closer to her presence being discovered.

Best get started then. Stephanie darted to the nearest tank and began making her way carefully toward the buildings.

***

There were even more weapons inside the facility, more than Phillips and the others probably realized and Stephanie began making a mental list of them as she continued her trek deeper inside, knocking out guards and hiding them as she could. She'd already realized the odds of her getting in and out unnoticed were low, but the longer she could go unseen the better.

At one point, as she squeezed between two very large missiles, she caught sight of odd cylinders lying on a table, filled with a strange glowing blue liquid. Praying it wasn't anything exceptionally volatile she grabbed a few and shoved them in a pocket, hoping Stark or someone else would be able to make sense of them later.

She finally found the prisoners, located on a lower level. It was dark, and dank, the atmosphere far different from what it had been overhead. The men were clustered in round cages, patrolled by a single guard because Hydra apparently had a lot of confidence in its own security. The men were packed together like sardines, their voices a low rumble as they talked amongst themselves. Several moved stiffly as if injured and she hoped they would be able to move enough to fight as there was no way they could get out without being seen.

As she snuck up on the guard she felt her heart begin to race. She could well be within feet of Bucky, or as far as she'd ever been. Either way, she would soon know for sure, hope replaced by the too oft harsh light of truth.

She didn't know how she would react if the truth wasn't what she wanted. Part of her knew Phillips and the others needed the intel she'd gathered but she could just as easily give it to the men to take with them. That was because the larger part of her was pretty sure that, if Bucky _was_ gone...if he was...then nothing in this world was going to stop her from personally ending Hydra no matter what it took and the last thing she was going to do was go back to camp and let them try to tell her no.

The guard was patrolling on top of one of the cages and she carefully made her way to a catwalk running just over him. When she was in position she grabbed the rail and quietly hopped over in one, smooth move. She dropped behind the guard, her boots barely making a sound, and knocked him out with a little more aggression than was probably necessary. Every second she went still not knowing what had happened to Bucky was fraying her nerves, her muscles wound tighter and tighter.

She dropped to her knees to look in the cage and, although she knew it was unlikely she'd managed to land right where Bucky was, it still brought a sharp sense of disappointment to see he wasn't there.

"Who are you supposed to be?" one of the men asked.

"The woman here to rescue you," Stephanie responded sharply, searching through the downed guard's pockets for the keys to the cage. If need be she could probably just break the locks with her hands but the keys would be quieter.

Another man pushed to his feet, frowning at her, his brows furrowed in concentration.

"Do I know you?" He frowned, and then suddenly his eyes widened. "Lady Liberty?"

Oh, for the love of...Stephanie found the keys and jumped down to land on her feet in front of the cage door.

"That's Captain Liberty to you," she said, sliding the key in and turning it to unlock the door.

"I thought the guy was the Captain," the man said as she pulled the door open.

"And those are sergeant stripes on your jacket," another added helpfully.

"Pretty sure the woman saving all your asses gets to pick her own title," Stephanie muttered in exasperation, especially when it was legitimately _her_ title, thank you Senator Brant and the United States Army.

"Ma'am," another man, stocky with a handlebar mustache and a large bowler hat of all things on his head, said sauntering forward, "you get us all out of here and I'll happily call you General if you want." He stopped in front of her and saluted, an action which, surprisingly, held no hint of mockery to it.

"Captain is fine," Stephanie said. She liked him, she decided. He reminded her a little bit of Tony.

The man stayed near her as she went from cage to cage, releasing the prisoners. With each open door, and each crowd of prisoners that did not include Bucky, Stephanie felt her heart sink a little further.

Her footsteps slowed as she neared the end, her eyes fixing on that last cage with a growing sense of dread. By the time she reached it she was shaking, her stomach clenched so tight it was making her nauseous. There was a loud roar in her head as she stood in silence, watching the men file out of that final cage. She had one hand on the door, her fingers curling into the bar until she felt it start to give under her fingers.

The last man walked out and then there was no one else, just a hallway full of silent men staring at her...and no Bucky.

Stephanie swallowed. "Is there anybody else?" Her voice wavered fractionally and she was glad it was too dark for them to see how pale her face had probably gone. She felt a strange numbness beginning to spread through her, her emotions dulling and the world moving away again, as it had back at camp, as if she were watching from somewhere else.

She didn't address the question to anyone specifically and fully expected no one to answer. The fact there had been hope for Bucky being here at all, that he hadn't been in a body bag back at the camp was more than most got.

To think there might still be hope now, that somehow Bucky was somewhere else...

"There's an isolation ward where they took a few," one of the men spoke up when it became apparent no one else would. "No one's ever come back from it."

Hope sparked anew and, for the first time, Stephanie realized what a wretched thing it could be.

"Okay," she said, her voice eerily calm to her own ears. "The tree line is northwest, eighty yards past the gate. Get out fast and give them hell. I'll meet you with anyone else I find."

She felt no guilt for leaving them to their own devices. They were soldiers, trained and used to battle. She was giving them the one thing she knew they wanted, a chance. She trusted them to make the most of it.

"Wait." She wasn't sure who said it but turned to see the man who'd originally spoken to her standing alongside the guy with the mustache and another guy she vaguely remembered freeing from one of the last cage. "You sure you know what you're doing?"

"I got you out, didn't I?" Stephanie asked. "Pretty sure that speaks for itself."

One of the men shrugged, conceding. "Fair enough."

She didn't mention it was her very first mission and she was making it up as she went along. They didn't need to know that. She nodded at them and wished them good luck. They gave back the same and then she turned and started running while, behind her, they set off to try and save their own lives. They wouldn't all make it but more would survive than would have had she not come so she tried to hold onto that and focus on her next destination.

The isolation ward, and her last chance to find Bucky, if he'd ever even been there to begin with. She couldn't handle not knowing any longer.

_No one's ever come back from it._

She shook her head. Please, don't let it be like that. Having him gone would be bad enough but gone because she'd gotten there too late?

She ran faster.

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt like posting a second new chapter early so I did! I hope you enjoy! :D :D

Stephanie felt like she was being torn in two. The part of her that had faith wanted to run as fast and as hard as she could. It wanted her to rip the installation apart with her bare hands, piece by piece until she found Bucky and freed him.

But then there was the other part, which was just as loud and getting louder that was telling her to stop torturing herself, accept the truth and leave. Forget the phantom she was chasing, the ghost of the man who no longer needed her help and instead go to the aid of the hundreds that did. That was the rational part of her mind she supposed. Her heart screamed at her that Bucky was alive and she was steps from finding him. Her mind pointed at the numbers lost at Azzano, the number of men she'd just rescued, the fact that no one had ever come back from the isolation ward and, in the darkest place of her spirit, her mind asked the question - what were the odds?

What were the odds that Bucky had survived Azzano? That his body hadn't been simply missed and was rotting even then in a ditch somewhere? That a villager wanting to be helpful hadn't buried him? That his body hadn't been misidentified or, worse, been obliterated by the so-called super tank, or simply mangled beyond recognition so it _couldn't_ be identified?

What were the odds he'd survived to be captured? That he'd then survived the march here and whatever hell they'd all been put through after? She'd seen the men as they came out of the cages, half-starved, beaten, many sporting untreated injuries that were probably infected or well on their way to infection. Bucky hadn't been among any of them, which left the isolation ward, which meant he'd survived Azzano, survived the march, survived the conditions here, only to be taken to some other place that no one had survived...and he'd somehow made it through that too. Somehow made it through _all_ of that just to be waiting for her to come along and save him?

A door appeared ahead of her, one of the men had pointed her in this direction so she assumed it was the way to go. It opened onto a set of metal stairs and she hurried down them, her boots clanging on each step. Her mind taunted her, the words echoing through her louder than the sound of her running.

What were the odds?

What were the odds?

What were the odds?

 

Slim, that's what they were.

 

She knew that, but it didn't stop her from running, or from grabbing the railing near the bottom of the stairwell and leaping over. She fell nearly ten feet and hit the ground in a crouch, barely pausing before she was up and running again.

It didn't stop her because as afraid as she was of what the truth might be...probably was...undoubtedly was.... there was no way she could live with even the possibility that she might have been wrong, might have missed him somewhere...could have _left him behind._ If there was even a _chance_ he was somewhere, anywhere, she was going to look...and keep looking until there were nowhere else to go.

She wasn't sure what she would do if she didn't find him at all if only because the possibility hadn't really occurred to her before. Finding him dead, finding him alive, yes; but not finding him at _all_? She'd thought him being gone would be the worst thing but the _not knowing_...the gut clenching despair and grief mixed with hope that gave way to despair with every dead end only to give rise to more hope when she found another corner she hadn't gone around, another rock she hadn't searched under...that was a thousand times worse. If he wasn't there she would have no choice but to continue searching, and not knowing. She didn't know how she would handle that, or if she even could.

Another stairwell, more clattering of boots echoing off concrete walls...and then she was running through a door with a giant sign reading "Isolation Ward" on it.

Her stomach twisted so hard she started shaking and felt physically ill.

She ran through the door and found herself facing a short corridor that turned sharply to the right just ahead of her. She rounded the corner, and slowed to a stop.

The isolation ward was straight out of a horror story. This far underground it was freezing, a biting cold that cut through the thick jacket she wore and past whatever extra defense the serum in her veins gave her. The place was poorly lit, small lights strung up along the walls throwing small pools of weak, inefficient light onto the floor leaving large shadows and patches of total darkness. There must be a broken pipe somewhere as the walls were damp in areas, slow trickles of water dribbling down and collecting in puddles on the floor.

The level appeared empty, doors lining the walls on both sides of the corridor open with silence coming from within.

As she started forward again she nearly had a heart attack as a small, balding man suddenly appeared from seeming nowhere out of one of the rooms. He stopped when he saw her, hesitated for a moment and then bolted, vanishing around a corner at the far end.

Stephanie started to give chase, only to stop as she remembered why she was there. The fact the level was empty, and the speed with which the man had fled suggested word of her presence, and the prisoner escape was no longer a secret. If she chased some random man, who might not even be anyone of importance, it was unlikely she'd be able to return later to look for Bucky.

She headed toward the first open door, looking inside to see an empty room beyond. The next was the same, as was the one after that.

As she approached the fourth she thought she heard a low murmuring sound. At first she thought she was imagining it, her mind having mercy finally and conjuring up what her heart so desperately wanted to hear.

She stepped inside the room slowly, and paused, fully expecting the sound to fade away and stop.

It didn't.

It was a voice, she realized, and, what's more, it was saying something.

She held her breath and listened.

"Sergeant," the voice said, dull and in a monotone, "32557." It repeated, once, and then again.

Numbers burned into her mind from the thousands of times she'd stared at them, ran her fingers over the ridges that formed them in the thin metal of the dog tags hanging around her neck.

Stephanie let out a strangled sound and broke into a run so fast she nearly tripped and fell flat on her face.

She spotted a bed and a person strapped to it. Mounted over the bed was some kind of creepy apparatus, filled with needles and sharp instruments all pointing downward. She didn't want to think about what their purpose might be or imagine them being used.

She reached the bed, and nearly burst into tears at the sight of Bucky, strapped down and barely aware but _alive._ She reached out shaking hands, half expecting him to disappear any second. Her hands touched his chest, flesh and bone under her fingers, his chest rising and falling. Her legs buckled and she caught herself on the edge of the bed, a sob of relief escaping her throat. She only allowed herself the one, forcefully choking her emotions back. They were far, far from out of danger and the last thing she had time for was giving into her relief at seeing Bucky alive when, by all rights, he shouldn't be. If she had her way she'd throw her arms around him and hug him for the next five hours. There was no time for it, however, so she contented herself with the fact he was alive and breathing and if she never had a stroke of luck or another miracle the rest of her life she would be okay with it because having him back was more than worth it.

She pushed herself upright again and focused on him. He was covered in grime and sweat, the long sleeved sweater he wore dirty and ripped. He was thinner than the last time she'd seen him and looked exhausted. He'd stopped mumbling when she'd arrived but his eyes were glazed over, his pupils dilated and staring blankly upward as if he'd been drugged. It was fine, she told herself firmly, she could deal with all that. If she had to put him over her shoulder and carry him out she would because all that mattered was that Bucky was _alive_ and she was keeping him that way if it was the last thing she ever did. She knew now what it felt like to not have him, to face a possible future without him in it.

She _knew_ what it looked like, and felt like, and she had no desire to ever feel that way again.

She reached for the straps, ripping them loose without bothering to undo them properly. "Bucky," she breathed, as her eyes went back to those awful looking things in the apparatus over her head. "My god, what did they do to you?" He gave no sign he heard her, his eyes still fixed and staring somewhere over her shoulder.

He didn't react to her ripping the straps off his waist and chest, seeming to not even realize she was there, let alone recognize her. Stephanie really didn't expect the latter. The room was dark and he was suffering from whatever the hell they had done to him. On top of all that she didn't exactly look the same anymore and she was also the last person he'd expect to see.

She tore the straps off his legs and then moved to his arms. It was only as she got the final ones off his wrists that she saw him frown, his brows drawing together in confusion. He let his head fall to the side, staring at her hazily. "Did you just call me Bucky?" he asked, his voice sluggish.

Stephanie froze. "We need to get you out of here," she said finally, pretending she hadn't heard him.

So much for being brave. She could jump out of a plane into anti-aircraft fire but couldn't tell her best friend who she was. Way to go, her.

Bucky seemed to be slowly coming out of whatever haze he'd been in. He responded to what she said, struggling to sit up. He grunted in pain, wrapping an arm around his torso then gave up on trying to sit up and, instead, started to roll to the side, off the table. Stephanie grabbed him around the waist to help him. His feet hit the ground and his legs collapsed. Stephanie crouched a little as he went down before helping him back up again.

She kept one arm around his waist and pulled his arm across her shoulders, shoving her hip against him as she did to take on his weight. She pulled him toward the door and he was more than eager to go. They made it out and she started to take him back the way she'd come only to have him resist.

"It's faster that way," he mumbled, nodding tiredly in the other direction. His eyes were clearer and he was starting to slowly take on more of his own weight from her. Stephanie could almost feel the adrenaline pumping through her own veins. If Bucky had anywhere near that amount of adrenaline in his own system, it was probably going a long way toward flushing out whatever drugs were still in him.

They passed a door and Stephanie realized it was the one she'd seen the short man running from when she'd first arrived on the level. She glanced inside and spotted a large map hung up on the wall. There were markers on it and she memorized them, figuring any spot worthy of notice to Hydra was worth being noticed by her as well.

Bucky pulled away from her suddenly, staggering a little as he did, standing hunched and with an arm still wrapped around his stomach. Stephanie frowned and started to step toward him but he waved her on ahead of him.

"You'll need your hands free if anyone is around that corner," he said. "We both know I won't be much help."

Stephanie nodded shortly and began to move again, keeping an ear out for Bucky following behind. If he fell even once, she decided, she was picking him up no matter what he said. The way he kept holding his stomach was worrying her and it was difficult to keep herself from grabbing him to make sure he didn't have any serious injuries. Even if he did she could do absolutely nothing about them until they'd gotten out of the facility.

They got to the end of the corridor and she gripped the edge with one hand and leaned around to look and see if the way was clear.

"I thought she looked like you," Bucky said suddenly from behind her, his voice matter of fact. Stephanie tensed, recognizing the tone as the one he used when he knew he had someone dead to rights and was challenging them to try and deny it. The last time he'd used the tone on her was when they had been eight and she'd eaten the last piece of his birthday cake behind his back while he'd been in the bathroom.

Stephanie was fairly sure what she'd done this time was a bit more serious.

"I thought it was funny," Bucky continued. "I was going to write to you about it."

There was a hard edge to his voice and Stephanie's fingers curled in where they'd been clutching the corner of the wall. If he'd seen Lady Liberty then most likely it meant he'd seen the posters. He had to have seen them, they were _everywhere._ What did he think? Was he disgusted by her? Did he think she'd done what she did just to look pretty and get herself stuck on those stupid posters? She remembered Tony's words telling her that the people who mattered wouldn't judge her, that they'd know the type of person she was, and the type she wasn't.

She and Bucky were certainly closer than she was to Tony and _he_ realized she wasn't that sort of woman, no matter what anyone else thought...so Bucky would know too, right?

She swallowed down a suddenly dry throat. She'd known he'd be angry in general over what she'd done but didn't know how far it would go or what he would think about Lady Liberty. She'd hoped to explain it to him in a controlled environment where she could sit and talk to him, explain how it had all happened and why, answer the multitude of questions he undoubtedly had, _before_ he had a chance to stew about it and get really set into his anger but, no, she just had to go and call him Bucky didn't she?

"Not even going to try and deny it?" he asked from behind her.

She sighed. "Would it help?"

"No."

"Then why waste the breath?" she asked in frustration.

The sound of an explosion came from overhead, the floor under her feet vibrating from the force of it. "Time to go."

She started moving again and he fell in behind her once more, silent. Stephanie tried to focus on the task at hand and ignore the anger she could almost physically feel radiating off him. She'd told herself once she'd be okay if he never forgave her, so long as she was able to protect him, but she now acknowledged that had been an utter lie. Call her greedy or selfish or whatever but it simply wasn't enough for her to just know he was alive and well somewhere out there. She wanted to stay by his side, and have him by hers. It had always been the two of them together, Bucky and Steph, and that was how she wanted it to remain. Which meant she was going to have to come up with one _hell_ of a convincing argument after they got out of this and it'd have to be a lot better than ones she'd had in the past, which usually amounted to "it seemed like a good idea at the time" or "well, that didn't go as expected."

Somehow, she highly doubted Bucky would accept either, not this time.

They made it back to the main floor of the facility and witnessed a second explosion tear through the floor. Flame shot up, high over their heads and a wave of heat washed over them. Stephanie felt her eyes immediately dry out, sweat breaking out on her skin.

Definitely not going that way.

By mutual, unspoken agreement, she and Bucky turned and ran toward a set of stairs that led up, away from the flames. Stephanie could feel the waves of heat flickering at her back, tendrils of sweat running down her neck and drenching her uniform.

"Are you wearing my clothes?" Bucky suddenly demanded, apparently only just noticing.

Stephanie gave him an incredulous look, wondering why that, of all things, was what he was choosing to focus on.

"My other costume wasn't practical," she said shortly. No one wanted to see her prancing through Hydra's weapons facility in a short skirt, revealing bodice, and high heeled boots. Her mind went to the poster of her the Hydra soldiers had in their truck as well as the looks she'd gotten from some of the prisoners as they'd filed past her.

Fine, she mentally conceded, _she_ didn't want to prance around a Hydra weapons facility in a short skirt, revealing bodice and high heeled boots.

They reached the top of the stairs leading to a walkway. Bucky was panting and she saw him brace himself against the railing, resting his forehead on it as he struggled to get his breath back. She scanned the area and, at the far end of the walkway they were on, she spotted a second one that led across the room, and the now pit of fire beneath them, to a door on the other side. The flames were so intense by then they were creating a loud, almost deafening roar.

She caught Bucky's arm and he obediently straightened. She nodded to the walkway, earning an incredulous look from him, but he started heading toward it when she did. Just as they reached it a voice rang out and she looked to see a tall, slender man in a uniform with slicked back hair standing on the far side of the room, near the door she'd been hoping to reach.

"Lady Liberty! How exciting! Or should I say Captain Liberty now?'

Stephanie suppressed a groan through gritted teeth. Being popular in the States was one thing but just how popular was she in Hydra? Did _everyone_ know who Lady Liberty was?

Her mind went to the literal thousands of posters that had been shipped out overseas. Of course they all knew, she thought in annoyance. They were probably plastered everywhere and Hydra soldiers picked them up as they went along.

She would have liked to have inspired confidence in her allies, and fear in her enemies. Going by the way the man on the other side was staring at her, she'd managed neither thanks to those idiotic posters. "I am a great fan of your film!"

At least he said film and not posters, Stephanie thought grudgingly.

The man strode out onto the gangway and Stephanie slowly moved in front of Bucky, who was in no condition to do much more than hang onto the railing for support. She walked toward the other man, hoping to stop him in his tracks and keep him as far from Bucky as possible. They met in the middle, fire, and continuing explosions, raging directly below their feet.

"So, Dr. Erskine managed it after all," the man said and Stephanie began to have a sneaking suspicion as to who he was. "Not exactly an improvement," he went on, his eyes openly tracking up and down her body, "but still, impressive." Behind him, Stephanie caught a glimpse of the man she'd seen running away earlier and upgraded her assessment of how important he probably was. She didn't regret her choice as it had led to her rescuing Bucky, and she'd had no way of knowing who the other man was, but she did wish there'd been a way to save Bucky _and_ capture the guy.

"I don't know," she said now, responding to what the man in front of her had said, "I'm not a psychopath. I'd call that an improvement."

The man, who she was now sure was the Schimdt that Dr. Erskine had spoken of, laughed. "You have nerve, I like that. You're certainly more interesting than the one they have been masquerading as you, yes?"

"You have no idea," Stephanie said, and swung at him, hard. Bucky had taught her how to hit and she knew she'd connected well by the way his head snapped back. Given her new abilities the blow should have knocked him flat on his back.

It barely moved him and she had a sinking suspicion he only moved at all because she'd taken him by surprise. Dr. Erskine's words ran back through her mind and, for the first time, it occurred to her that he'd never said the serum was a failure on Schmidt, just that it had side effects.

Schmidt straightened and there was an odd redness around one eye as if she'd burst some capillaries in it but no blood welled up.

"You might be surprised," he said and Stephanie's eyes widened as his fist was suddenly coming right at her. She heard Bucky shout behind her and just barely managed to get her shield up in time to meet the blow.

It felt as if her skeleton actually vibrated inside her body and her teeth clacked together. She stared at the shield in horror, which was now dented in a perfect outline of his fist. Stephanie prayed it was because the shield was a prop and not because the man was actually that strong.

He came at her again and she jerked back automatically. Her feet tangled and she fell, crashing onto her back on the walkway. Schmidt leaned over her and she jerked her legs up, planting them in his chest and shoving him away from her.

She scrambled to her feet, in time to see the gangway splitting in the middle, the part Schmidt was on drawing back toward the door and the other man waiting there.

"No matter what Dr. Erskine told you," Schmidt yelled across the gap. "I was his greatest success." He then reached up to his face, and proceeded to _peel it off_.

Stephanie gaped, stumbling back off the gangway and the large gap she was now standing in front of, and nearly tripped over Bucky. He was frozen behind her, at the entrance to the gangway, watching in equal shock as the other man finished pulling off what she had assumed was his face, revealing nothing but red tinged bone underneath.

"You don't have one of those do you?" Bucky asked, his eyes wide.

"I hope not," Stephanie whispered back.

"You are deluded, Lady Liberty," Schmidt said, making the title sound like an insult. "You pretend to be a symbol of your country but, in reality, you cannot even be called a symbol of your race." He lifted a hand, indicating his head. "We have left humanity behind. I embrace it, proudly." As he spoke he walked through the door into what Stephanie now saw was an elevator, the other man with him.

"If that's so," she shouted at him, hoping to goad him into extending the bridge again to try and attack her, "then why are you running?"

Her only response was a look of amusement and then the doors were sliding closed leaving her and Bucky trapped in an inferno.

Below them something exploded, again.

Not good.

They needed to get to the other side and make it through that door. The fire was getting worse, the flames coming higher and the temperature rising. Her lungs felt tight, superheated air making it difficult to breathe. Next to her, Bucky was struggling. He was weak to begin with due to his injuries and she could what little energy he had was draining fast.

She spotted a collapsed beam balanced precariously on the walkways on both sides of the room and shook her head at the insane idea that crossed her mind. There was no way. Bucky could barely stand up as it was. If he tried to cross that...

Another explosion rocked the room beneath them and they both staggered.

Stephanie mentally cursed and headed toward the beam.

There was no other option.

"Come on," she said, grabbing Bucky's arms and pulling him toward the beam. "We'll go one at a time."

Bucky started to protest but Stephanie cut him off, already knowing what he planned to say. "Survival now, chivalry later, Buck. Move."

On any other day, Stephanie felt he would have argued but exhaustion had allowed the drugs to reassert themselves again, leaving him a bit on the dazed side once more. He clambered over the railing when she pushed him without fully seeming to realize he'd even done it.

Once over he started moving and Stephanie wrapped her arms around the rail, her heart leaping into her throat with every step he took.

Explosions caused him to stagger twice and, each time, Stephanie's hands curled into the railing until she managed to dent it in the shape of her fingers. Just as Bucky neared the other side the beam shook and began to break away from where it was balanced. Stephanie made a strangled sound as Bucky broke into a run, leaping the last few feet and slamming into the other railing, barely managing to hold on from sheer willpower and adrenaline.

Stephanie didn't start breathing again until he'd scrambled over and was safely on the catwalk on the other side. Her relief was so profound it barely registered she was now trapped on the wrong side of the room.

The fact did not escape Bucky. He pushed to his feet and faced her, grabbing the railing and looking around frantically.

"There's gotta be a rope or something!" He shouted across the room. His eyes were clear again, the near death experience having sparked enough adrenaline to clear the rest of the drugs from his system.

Stephanie shook her head. She'd come to save Bucky and wasn't about to have him die waiting around for her. "It's alright," she shouted back at him. The room was disintegrating beneath them, there was no time to search for rope or anything else. "Just go! Get out of here!" She had no intention of just sitting back and dying but there was no reason for Bucky to stay. She waved an arm at him, indicating for him to leave. "Go!"

"No!" Bucky screamed, his voice rawer than she'd ever heard it. He slapped the railing in frustration, leaning forward and fixing his eyes on her. "Not without you!" She saw a set look come over his face, his body going still. Stephanie knew that look. He wasn't budging until she obeyed him and that was all there was to it.

"Hell," she muttered, the word very appropriate to their current setting. Bucky was as bad as she was. An idea formed, an insane one but, it was her, so of course it was. She grabbed the railing and forced it outward, grunting with effort as she bent the entire thing away, creating an open gap leading right into the fire below.

She moved back, away from the edge and toward the railing behind her, getting as much room as she could.

She faced the room, her back pressed against the railing behind her. On the other side she saw a dawning look of horror cross Bucky's face as he started to realize what she was planning.

Stephanie didn't give him a chance to object, or herself a chance to think about it. Mostly. She started to move, hesitated and shut her eyes for a moment, a groan of pure fear escaping her. She might be reckless but it didn't mean she wanted to die and death by fire was certainly not her first choice.

Shaking her head, she let out a breath and pushed off the railing, trying to move faster than her brain could think and talk her out of it.

Her foot hit the edge and then she was pushing off. Her eyes opened and found Bucky on the other side, his eyes wide with horror as he watched her soaring over a veritable ocean of fire.

If she survived this, he was absolutely going to kill her.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters 13 and 14 are sort of a two parter so I'm posting this one tonight and I'll be posting 14 tomorrow after I've had a chance to give it a final once over. :)

Stephanie wasn't sure who was more surprised at her survival, herself or Bucky.

Her feet barely hit the edge of the platform Bucky stood on but she just managed to snap her upper body forward enough to grab the railing. Bucky jumped toward her at the same moment, grabbing fistfuls of her clothing and dragging her, none too gently, over the rail.

They hit the floor together, a jumble of bodies and limbs. Stephanie found herself half sprawled on top of Bucky, her legs tangled with his and one hand braced against his chest. And by on his chest, she meant _on_ his chest, her hand right on his bare skin through the tear in the shirt he wore. Stephanie flushed in embarrassment and extricated herself quickly. She got to her feet shakily and held her hand out to him. Bucky gave her a look that was half horrified and half anger but took the offered hand, pulling himself up. His eyes were wide, his breathing coming in harsh pants and his body appeared to be actually shaking.   

"What were you thinking?" he started to demand, his voice sharp. He cut off as, beneath them, more explosions rocked the floor, waves of nearly unbearable heat radiating up. Under their feet the gangway they were standing on seemed to be vibrating, or was it the walls?

"Time to go," Stephanie said and Bucky agreed with an expression that told her the conversation was far from done. Jumping over a sea of flame probably wasn't the best way to convince him she knew what she was doing and wasn't reckless, but it wasn't as if she'd had much choice. She imagined, however, his comment was most likely referring to the choices that had led to her being in a position to _need_ to jump over a sea of flame to begin with. A sense of dread settled in her gut, similar to what she would feel as a child when she'd done something wrong and was waiting for her inevitable punishment. There was a part of her that really, really wanted it to simply be over and done with but the midst of a crumbling building was most definitely neither the time nor place for it.

Bucky was hunched over again, his face twisted with pain but when she gave him a worried look she got an annoyed one in return. He might be injured and in pain but his fight or flight response had kicked into full gear. That primal instinct should give him more than enough strength to hightail it the hell out of there before the entire building came down on their heads.

Should. Stephanie grabbed the doors to the elevator and pried them open, breathing a sigh of relief at the sight of the car. She'd been afraid the car would be keyed and Schmidt would have it locked on whatever floor he got out on. The floor vibrated again and she frowned. "This won't be safe."

"Says the woman who just jumped across a floor full of exploding bombs," Bucky said from behind her.

"Fair enough," Stephanie muttered. She stepped inside the car and Bucky followed her, leaning against the back wall gingerly. The doors slid shut and Stephanie hit the button for the bottom floor. The car started to move, shakily, but moving. Of course it was moving down, into the area that was currently on fire and exploding...

Stephanie planted herself in front of the door, between the exploding floor on the other side of the wall and where Bucky was barely standing behind her. She doubted it would make much difference if the whole thing blew up but it made her feel marginally better.

She closed her eyes and didn't take a breath until the car slid to a stop and the doors opened onto a ground level that looked suspiciously calm given what was happening inside and what she assumed was happening outside. She caught sight of several slumped forms but everyone still alive appeared to have either evacuated or gone to the yard after the escaped prisoners.

As they exited, Bucky staggered, his knees buckling slightly before he regained control. His adrenaline was starting to fade and his body was remembering the shape it was in. Stephanie made a move toward him but the look he sent her had her backing off again with a huff of exasperation. He called _her_ stubborn.

She lifted her shield in front of her, expecting a fight outside but was startled to see the aftermath of a war zone instead. Hydra soldiers were scattered on the ground along with a number of men she remembered walking past her, alive and well, from the cells just a short time earlier. Fires and destroyed cars were scattered about and spent shell casings liberally coated the ground. The freed soldiers were well in control of the yard, a number of them watching over a line of captured Hydra soldiers. They had their hands on their heads and were being marched toward a truck parked near the woods. The entire area was buzzing with activity as the men corralled what equipment they could and tried to get it to the woods before the fire spread.

Stephanie felt pride spread through her and a smile broke out on her face. The men hadn't just used the chance she'd given them to run into the woods, they'd taken the yard and all the equipment inside it, including a giant tank that she desperately hoped was the one used to attack Azzano.

Behind her another explosion sounded, louder than any before, and she looked over her shoulder to see part of the building crumbling. She reached out and grabbed Bucky's arm, trying to tug him away from the fire. "Let's get out of here before the fire gets out."

Bucky pulled his arm away from her. "I can walk on my own." He couldn't, not really, but was clearly determined to try anyway.

Stephanie flinched, stung at the sharpness in his tone. "I was just trying to help."

"And it's always about what you want, isn't it?" Bucky said, his voice hard. "Doesn't matter what anyone else thinks or how much danger you put yourself into." His eyes narrowed. "Doesn't matter who you have to lie to."

"I just saved your life," Stephanie said through gritted teeth, her own ire rising. If she hadn't come he'd most likely have died, didn't he see that? "I think that counts for something."

"So I should overlook the fact you apparently waited two seconds after I left to go behind my back and do--" he made a motion with his hand, indicating her body, "whatever the hell you did?"

"I made sure your apartment was taken care of before I left," Stephanie said in annoyance, "and I never touched a dime of your money, it's all still there."

She knew she'd said the wrong thing before the last of it had left her mouth. To that point Bucky had still been partly bent over, one arm wrapped across his stomach and a fatigued look on his face. Now he straightened, carefully, his arm moving to his side and a fire rivaling the one still raging in the building behind them entering his eyes.

"My apartment?" he said incredulously. "You think _that's_ what I'm upset about? My _apartment_?" He stepped closer to her, his voice lowering. "Do you have the faintest idea where you even are? You're in the middle of a damn _Hydra_ base, Stephanie, and don't give me any garbage about being qualified to be here because you know damn well you aren't."

Stephanie tensed, expecting a barb about her stint as Lady Liberty and how she had more experience dancing on a stage than in live combat.

"You could have _died,_ " Bucky said instead, his teeth clenched so the words were nearly hissed.  

"I thought you _had_ died," she whispered back, her hands clenching and unclenching in fists at her side. She wanted to _touch_ him, so badly it almost physically hurt. She was still partly convinced none of this was real and he'd somehow vanish any moment. That or, worse, she was afraid he was somehow injured worse than he appeared, that he was bleeding out in front of her and she couldn't see it. She'd been on the road to giving up hope of ever seeing him again, of being forced to accept that the hug on the train platform would be the last time she'd ever touch him and that she'd one day find herself sitting on a bench next to that woman because there was no way her soul would ever fully accept he was gone. She wanted to touch his face, wrap her arms around him and hug him _so badly_ that holding her body back was taking all her willpower because she knew the action wouldn't be appreciated. Not right then anyway. "What did you expect me to do?" she asked him instead. "Just wait at home like a good little girl?"

"I expected you to wait at home like my _wife_ ," Bucky said, his voice strained. "Why couldn't you have done what I asked, just once?"

Stephanie flinched and a variety of responses ran through her mind, most of them angry.

She felt like yelling at him for trying to play the wife card _again_ especially considering it wasn't even a real marriage.

She felt like yelling that he'd always known who she was.

She felt like telling him that if he'd been looking for a meek and obedient wife he'd married the wrong girl but she rejected that one immediately. Obviously Bucky had married the wrong girl, that was sort of the point of the marriage being fake. As soon as they made it back to camp she imagined he'd run, not walk, to try and get it annulled. The thought brought a hollow feeling and she frowned at her own selfishness. After months of being without him, and hours that felt like years of thinking him dead, she'd accepted the only place she wanted James Buchanan Barnes was at her side. She'd accepted it, but that didn't mean it was what _he_ wanted, or that she had any right to him. For all she knew there was a young woman in some village right that very moment as they spoke who was waiting anxiously for word from Bucky. Jealousy at the imaginary woman flowed through her veins and Stephanie mentally sighed in exasperation at herself. As a child she'd been exceptionally possessive of Bucky, often refusing to acknowledge other children he would befriend. She'd thought she'd matured and grown out of it but clearly being separated from him, and fearing him dead, had brought the feeling back to life again.

Bucky was still glaring at her and Stephanie felt a sudden, admittedly irrational surge of happiness that at least he was alive _to_ be angry at her. She thought over what he'd just said, focusing on the last part for the first time and shook her head at the irony.

"I wasn't trying to dismiss you." she said. "You've always been there for me. I just wanted to return the favor."

His eyes narrowed. "Oh, so it's all my fault then, is it?"

"What?" Stephanie asked in surprise. "No, that's not what I meant. I'm just..." she scrambled, searching for the right words. "I tried to tell you before. So many are putting their lives on the line, and giving them," her hand swept out at the last, indicating the fallen forms of some of the prisoners. "Why should I get to sit at home and be safe when they can't?" When he couldn't, her mind supplied but she kept that part to herself. "You don't understand. This whole thing, it's bigger than me."

"Right," he said, his voice still incredulous. "You were just thinking of others, not yourself, certainly not me and you weren't trying to prove a damn thing."

Stephanie stiffened as his words struck hom. He'd always had the uncanny ability to see right through her, past what she told others, past what she even told herself.

"I told you," he said, his voice tiring as the last of his energy waned, "I'd take you when I got back. Anywhere you wanted, whatever you wanted to do, wherever you wanted to go." His eyes hardened and his body tensed. "What was it, Steph? My promise not good enough for you? Or is it I just wasn't good enough?"

Stephanie sucked in a sharp breath. Was _that_ what he thought? Truly? She opened her mouth to respond, not even sure what she was going to say, only to jump in surprise as an arm was suddenly flung across her shoulders. The soldier with the handlebar mustache and the bowler hat moved to throw his other arm across Bucky's shoulders.

"Now, now you two," he said casually, "not in front of the children."

Stephanie looked at him, and then past him to the still burning yard and the hundreds of soldiers milling about. With her focus on Bucky she'd somehow managed to forget their surroundings and she felt her face heat at the spectacle the two of them must have been.

Mustached guy grinned at Stephanie. "You wouldn't happen to have a cargo plane stashed nearby would you?"

"Sorry," Stephanie said, her emotions frayed from everything that had happened over the course of that day. "I have a transponder I was supposed to use to call one but I don't see where it could land."

She started to ask if perhaps he'd seen a landing strip anywhere nearby only to cut off as Bucky's face suddenly drained of color and he staggered, his eyes rolling back in his head. "Bucky!"

She made it to his side just as the other guy slid his arm from Bucky's shoulder to his waist to help support him. Stephanie dragged Bucky's other arm across her shoulders and hooked her arm around his waist, just over the mustache guy's arm.

"Let's get him to one of the trucks," mustache guy said and Stephanie nodded. Together they half walked, half dragged Bucky to one of the captured trucks, not the one the Hydra prisoners were being loaded into, and took him to the back. He was looking better by then and loudly protested but Stephanie and the mustache guy ignored him. Grabbing him under the arms they lifted him up so soldiers in the truck could grab him and physically drag him inside, whether he wanted it or not. One of the men gave her a nod and a polite salute.

"We'll make sure he's taken care of, ma'am."

Stephanie nodded and turned away, fighting the urge to either burst into tears or break something, possibly both. She wanted to be able to sit him down and _talk_ to him. He was so _wrong._ She'd never thought he wasn't good enough, not _once_ and the idea he could even _think_ that stunned her. She needed to talk to him and she couldn't damn well do that while the world was intent on burning down around them, literally.  

"The front lines are about thirty miles that way," she said to the mustached man, pointing. "If we could find somewhere for the plane to land maybe we could call it?"

He shrugged. "Probably draw too much attention anyway. Doubt the enemy would kindly sit and let us land, load up and leave." He tossed an arm around her shoulders and led her away from the truck, nodding at it over one shoulder. "Your guy I take it? He's the one you came for?"

Stephanie frowned. "Who says I came for anyone?" She hadn't specifically asked for Bucky by name. As far as they knew, she had checked the isolation ward just to be thorough. "And he's not my guy, we're just friends."

The mustached man looked amused. "I'm guessing you don't normally get in arguments like that with random strangers. I also figure his name probably isn't Bucky any more than mine is Dum Dum or yours is Lady Liberty." His grin broadened. "Excuse me, I meant, Captain Liberty."

Stephanie gave him a confused look. "Your name is Dum Dum?"

"Only to my friends" he said, sticking a hand out to shake hers. "Timothy Dugan to everyone else."

"Stephanie Rogers," Stephanie said, deciding on the spot she liked him, "Stephanie or Steph to my friends." She sighed, looking back toward the truck. "His name is James. Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes."

Dum Dum grabbed her hand in a strong grip and shook it. "Well, Stephanie, on behalf of all of us here, and I imagine you'll be hearing it from most of them personally, thanks for getting us out."

Stephanie felt her face flush with embarrassment but nodded. "You're welcome." Her eyes flickered, unconsciously, toward the truck where Bucky had vanished and she heard Dum Dum chuckle.

"He'll come around. Don't worry about it."

Stephanie frowned. "How can you be so sure? You don't know him."

He leaned on her lightly, using his body weight to turn them both in the direction of the woods and a cluster of men trying to work out their next move. "A girl like you doesn't head thirty miles behind enemy lines on her own to rescue an ass, pardon the language."

Stephanie raised an eyebrow. "Maybe I just have terrible standards."

He snorted. "Let me rephrase. Guy that manages to inspire a girl like you to head out on a mission three steps past suicide to rescue him isn't the type to hold a grudge. Not if he's got a hint of intelligence. He'll get over it."

"What if he doesn't?" Stephanie blurted before she could stop herself. She wasn't going to be okay with it if that happened. She'd lied to herself once that she would be but it truly had been nothing but an outright fabrication. She _wouldn't_ be okay if he never forgave her. As much as she didn't want to imagine a world without Bucky in it, she also didn't want to imagine one where he hated her.  

"Then he's an idiot," Dum Dum said instantly. He squeezed her shoulders. "In my limited experience, ma'am, the time to worry isn't when someone you love gets angry over you doing something reckless, it's when they don't."

Stephanie managed a small smile. "I hope you're right."

He flashed her a smile that reminded her, for a brief instant, of Tony and she began to understand just why it was she felt such ease talking to him.

"Don't worry about it," Dum Dum added. "All else fails, you've got a couple hundred grateful soldiers at your beck and call ready to knock some sense into him."

Stephanie's grin faltered, remembering the injuries marking Bucky's face and the way he'd protected his stomach and torso. "I doubt that would be necessary," she said, her voice quiet and Dum Dum, to her surprise, chuckled.

"We'd have to go through you to get anywhere near him, huh?"

"Something like that," Stephanie agreed with a half-smile.

Dum Dum shook his head, "That is one lucky bastard," he said with amusement. "And if he's too stupid to realize it I may just punch him myself and take my chances."

***

There were hundreds of prisoners, far more than Stephanie had ever imagined. Thankfully, it wasn't just up to her to try and organize them all. Some of the prisoners were officers, others were simply natural leaders. Those were the men Dum Dum led her over to and she was soon surrounded by the group, introducing themselves and thanking her for what she'd done. Knowing it wasn't the time for her ego to make an appearance, Stephanie readily admitted to them that she'd never been on a mission before and had pretty much been winging the entire thing. That got her another round of praise, the men impressed with what she'd accomplished without experience. Stephanie had expected them to dismiss her, expected to have to argue and fight for her place. Not having to do that, being simply accepted...it was a good feeling.

They moved out soon after that, a small army in their own right, populated with men who were injured, starved and worked half to death. In the attack on the yard they hadn't been worrying much about capturing vehicles so, in the end, there were only a handful left working. They salvaged all the weapons they could, but most of the food stores had been destroyed. If it were just her, and she was in good health and not in enemy territory, she could probably have made the walk back in a day or so.

As it was, they were looking at a journey of several days to get a group of half-dead soldiers home. Several, long, hungry days if they weren't able to find anything to eat along the way.

Not a single soldier complained. They'd watched fellow prisoners die in the Hydra factory and had been convinced that would be their fate as well. The fact they were free, and safety was only a few days away, was all the motivation they needed to fall in line and start walking.

The tank and trucks were placed in the middle, the sick and injured in one and the Hydra prisoners in another, with the rest of the men flowing around them and protecting the rear of the procession. A few of the officers, and others who volunteered, spaced themselves out along the line, making sure everyone was keeping up and no one was left behind. At the very end of the line trundled one truck carrying the bodies of the prisoners who'd been killed in the escape attempt. They'd died trying to get home, Dum Dum had explained, and those who'd survived were damn well going to see to it they got there.

Stephanie, much to her surprise, was asked to lead them at the very front of the procession. Dum Dum, several others and then a number of the highest ranked officers with her. That entire morning, as they walked, she had a steady stream of the rescued coming to thank her, clap her on the back or shake her hand. A few were clearly enamored of her Lady Liberty persona and their handshakes were a bit longer than necessary, the looks in their eyes a bit too appreciative. The way they addressed her made it fairly clear they were in love with an image of her they'd created in their head, the fact she had a real name and was a real person probably escaped them. Stephanie had met a number of men like them over her short career and knew most were harmless. For the others, she could handle herself and had always had Tony keeping an eye out for her as well. He wasn't with her this time around but she imagined that, here at least, the men were far more concerned with surviving than with her and so she simply smiled, shook their hands, politely dodged one or two awkward attempts to hug her, and sent them back on their way into the line. She thought she was the only one to notice but, as the day progressed, it occurred to her that Dum Dum and a few of the other men were keeping within eyesight of her at all times. She didn't think it necessary but appreciated that they cared enough to make the effort.

A little after noon they came across a stream. It was iced over, but the layer wasn't thick and they were soon able to break through. The men immediately began coming up with canteens, bottles and every sort of container they could to fill with water. There should be enough to get them back safely, which would at least make the trip a little more bearable.

Stephanie leaned against a tree and watched, her arms wrapped around herself as she struggled not to freeze to death now that they'd stopped moving. She had a high tolerance to the cold and the fact she was currently freezing drove home just how incredibly cold it must be for everyone else. A fire was out of the question, not in enemy territory where smoke could be readily seen by the wrong people. Not all the men had coats on and she made a mental note to bring it up to Dum Dum and the officers. Perhaps they could set up a system of rotating people in and out of the trucks, where it was warmer, or start sharing jackets. At the very least they could watch for signs of frostbite or anyone in distress and in need of attention. They would also need to get moving again sooner rather than later. The longer they were stopped the colder the men would get.

She spotted Bucky suddenly, looking decidedly better than he had the last time she'd seen him walking slowly toward the water. He knelt stiffly and scooped up handfuls of water.

"We're about ready to move out," Dum Dum said, coming up to her. "We don't want to stay still too long if we can help it, not in the day at least."

Stephanie nodded. A noise drew her attention and she looked up, the sound of a plane coming from overhead. "I don't suppose we'd be lucky enough for that to be one of ours."

"Wouldn't matter if it was," Dum Dum said, following her gaze. "It sees us, starts circling, the enemy spots it, starts wondering what's so interesting in the woods and decides to come investigate and suddenly we've got a full-fledged firefight on our hands."

"You are just full of optimism and hope," Stephanie said, "you know that?"

"We can't all be Lady Liberty," Dum Dum said with amusement.

Stephanie sighed. "I'm never going to live that down am I?"

"Unlikely," Dum Dum said cheerfully. "Though it does raise the question of why Lady Liberty came to save us and not Captain America."

"That," Stephanie muttered, "is a very long story. And one that probably ends with me in jail."

Without warning, Bucky's voice came from right over her shoulder. "Why?"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised. :)

Stephanie jumped in surprise. How he'd managed to move from the river to her side that quickly, and without her noticing, she had no idea. He didn't seem quite as angry as he had before but there was still a fire in his eyes that told her the argument they'd started in the yard was far from over. She opened her mouth to answer him but snapped it shut again as she was once again hit by the same realization she'd been hit by when she'd seen him on that table and again when he'd confronted her in the yard.

She was talking to _Bucky._

Bucky who she hadn't seen in months, who she'd feared was _dead,_ the pain of that possibility so bad she'd barely been able to breathe.

And now he was _here._ Here and she could talk to him and touch him and even if all they were doing was yelling at one another it was a thousand times better than the alternative which would have been awful, soul crushing _silence..._ forever. 

Her willpower gave in. She sucked in a sharp breath and stepped forward to wrap her arms around him. The second her hands touched him the very last tendrils of her control fled and she surged forward, her arms sliding around his body, fingers fisting in the fabric of his shirt and curling into the muscles of his upper back. She buried her face against his shoulder, drew in a shuddering breath...and promptly burst into tears.

Once she'd started there was no stopping. She burrowed harder into him, her entire body pressed against his. She let out a wail ripped somewhere from the core of her being, the sound barely muffled by his shirt. It morphed into sobs after that, each one a reflection of the misery she'd felt when he'd left, the fear when she'd thought him dead, and the terror every time she turned a corner to find he wasn't there.

She cried so hard her body shook from the force of it but she only curled even more against him, as if she could physically share the same space he did if she just tried hard enough. She didn't care who heard or saw, it simply didn't matter. She'd thought he was _dead_. She'd thought she'd _lost_ him and it had left a gaping wound in her soul that would have never closed no matter how many years had passed by. She'd spent time in a world that told her he had gone where she could not follow. It had been a cold and ugly world left in his wake and it was only by the grace of God she hadn't had to _stay_ there. 

She cried herself out eventually, leaving her breathing short and hitched, her eyes swollen and dry and her head pounding with the promise of a headache. Her body felt as if she'd run a marathon and she relaxed against him, listening to the faint thud of his heart and feeling the movement of his chest as he breathed.  

Bucky hadn't reacted initially, simply standing still as she'd clung to him, probably to shocked to respond. Slowly though she'd felt his hands move to rest on her hips before, almost hesitantly, sliding up to her waist. Then, a few minutes later, his arms had suddenly just wrapped around her in a tight embrace, dragging her body even closer to his own. Currently, he had one hand cradling the back of her head while, with the other, he lightly trailed his fingers up and down her spine.  

"You have _always_ been enough," Stephanie whispered into his shirt, finally getting to the point where she trusted herself enough to speak without breaking down again. "And I did do it because of you, because I wanted to help you." She took a deep, shuddering breath. "But I probably would have done it anyway, even if you hadn't gone over. You going just meant I needed to get it done sooner rather than later. I couldn't stand the thought of you being over here without me. If you were going to face danger, or worse, I wanted to be there facing it with you."

"And what do you think I'd have done if you'd been the one to go over without me?" Bucky asked. He sighed. "Damn it, Steph, why do you have to be so reckless?" his voice was heavy with resignation, almost bordering on despair and Stephanie flinched to know she was the cause of it. "What the hell did you do?" Bucky asked, pulling back from her enough to look her in the eyes. His hands moved to her shoulders, his eyes tracking over the changes in her height and weight, the new muscles he could feel under the sleeves of his dress uniform and shirt. "What did you do?" he repeated.

Stephanie pulled away from him and crossed her arms, her eyes focusing on his shirt instead of his eyes. Dum Dum had vanished and, around her, she could see the men quietly gathering things up to start moving again, a river of soldiers parting around them. None of them so much as looked at her and Bucky, giving them their privacy as much as it could be given under the circumstances.

"Guess what my life expectancy is now," she said nervously, not immediately answering his question, and immediately saw his body tense. Neither of them were fools. She'd been a walking pharmacy on her best days, on her worst her parents and Bucky had gathered around her bed and prayed for her to keep breathing.

 _"Life can be measured in moments,"_ a doctor had told her once, " _and you have far fewer than most. I would suggest you make the most of them."_

"How long?" he asked, his voice flat. He always did that when he was forced to acknowledge that he would most likely outlive her by decade. It was a fact Stephanie had never truly appreciated until she'd faced doing the same with him and she now found herself wondering how he'd managed it so long without it driving him insane.

She lifted her eyes to his, giving him an uncertain grin. "As long as anyone else's," she said softly. "There's no reason I shouldn't live long enough to pass away from old age."

His eyes narrowed. "Given the trouble you get into when I'm there, and whatever the hell you apparently do when I'm not, I can think of several reasons." He was silent, studying her, and then he abruptly reached out to grab her by the arms, pulling her forward so he could press his forehead against her. "Are you sure?" he asked, his own voice suddenly uncertain.

Stephanie nodded and then shrieked in surprise as he laughed out loud and then crouched to wrap his arms around her legs. He straightened, lifting her right off her feet and spun in a circle, whirling her about in excitement.  

"Bucky!" Stephanie scolded in a mix of surprise and worry. "Put me down! You're injured!"

The thought seemed to occur to him at the same time. She saw his face pale and then he was setting her down, just a little too hard. He staggered and Stephanie caught him around the waist. She lowered him carefully to one knee and crouched beside him.

"Wanted to make sure I still could," he muttered with a sidelong grin and Stephanie huffed in exasperation. Bucky had always had a habit of picking her up when he got particularly excited.

"I think we have a few more important things to worry about than whether or not you can still lift me," she said dryly and he gave her a strange, oddly unreadable grin.

"Maybe to you."

Around them the men were continuing to move out, a long trail of soldiers, trucks and a few tanks rolling along. A few made as if to come help but Stephanie waved them off, keeping an arm around Bucky as he caught his breath. He leaned into her and she wrapped an arm around his head, guiding him to rest it on her shoulder as she supported him. He obeyed, allowing his body to relax somewhat as she took on his weight.

Dum Dum, several yards away from them, bent to pick up his rifle and then straightened to follow the line of soldiers leaving the area.

"Rogers!" he shouted, "Barnes! Get a move on!"

Stephanie waved back. "We'll catch up!" He waved back in acknowledgment and began trudging after the others.

"I'm happy for you," Bucky said, lifting his head to look at her. "But I'm still pissed as hell too. You were supposed to stay safe, not...do whatever you did and end up marching behind enemy lines to come pull my ass out of the fire."

"You'd have done the same for me," Stephanie said. "Hell, you _have_ done the same for me, for years. I just wanted to return the favor." She hesitated. "I mean it. I was thinking of you." She pressed her forehead against his, leaning into him as much as he was so they were effectively supporting one another. "And I did it for me," she admitted. "You're right. It wasn't _just_ for you or just to help the war even." She took a deep breath. "I wanted people to see me," she said, quietly. "Everyone always looked and saw an invalid or a woman refusing to accept her place or a thousand other things. I just wanted people to see _me_. For once."

Bucky struggled to push to his feet and she tightened her grip, helping him. She tried to be as careful as she could, not wanting to hurt him by accident with her superhuman strength. She was lucky she hadn't inadvertently cracked a few ribs from hugging him like she had. He made no comment so she guessed she managed. Once up, he faced her and then reached a hand out to push a tendril of hair back off her forehead, his fingers trailing to under her jaw. He lifted her chin to make eye contact, a movement reminiscent of when he'd kissed her at their wedding and Stephanie was surprised to feel a trill in her stomach similar to what she'd felt then.

"I always saw you." Bucky said solemnly, his eyes intense and locked on hers as if nothing else existed right then.

Stephanie sighed. "I know you did." She gave a short, bitter laugh. "It's not like it turned out the way I hoped anyway. Everyone ended up seeing Lady Liberty," and far too much of her at that. "Hardly anyone even knows my name, just that stupid title." He'd taken her hands as she spoke, his thumbs lightly running over the back of her palms. "You're the last one I ever wanted to hurt," she confessed, not breaking eye contact with him, "and the only one I did. I am _sorry,_ James," she said ardently, the moment much too serious for nicknames. "I should never have kept it from you. I was afraid you'd try to stop me."

Hell, yeah, I'd have tried to stop you," Bucky agreed, "right up until you mentioned it'd take care of all the damn health problems constantly trying to kill you. I wouldn't have liked it, but I'd have supported you." He frowned. "You should have trusted me."

"You're right," Stephanie agreed, squeezing his hands where they held hers. "I swear I will next time."

He groaned. "God help us on there being a next time," he said fervently.

Stephanie's head was still pounding and she felt miserable as she always did after crying but she managed a small, genuine smile for him. "Maybe there won't be. I actually did join the army, as much as they like to pretend I didn't. That's what you overheard. They'll probably arrest me as soon as I get back, for desertion." She shrugged self-deprecatingly. "I doubt I'll be able to do much of anything from behind bars."

"You're not getting arrested," Bucky said dryly. "You bring home a few hundred POWs along with the remnants of destroyed Hydra weapons facility and the only thing you're going to get is a medal," he shrugged, his head tilting and the ghost of his old cockiness shining through, "and, besides, even if you didn't have all that, you're Lady Liberty aren't you? No one's dumb enough to try and arrest you. There'd be hell to pay if they did."

Stephanie snorted. "You sound like Tony."

His eyes narrowed. "Who?"

"Captain America," Stephanie said absently, "my co-star." She frowned, noticing the clearing they were in was nearly empty. She grabbed Bucky's hand, interlacing their fingers, and tugged him in the direction the troops were heading. The last thing she wanted was for them to be left behind. "Come on, we should catch up."

She felt something pressing against her finger and frowned down at his hand. "Are you still wearing your ring?"

He shrugged casually. "Told you, I'd lose it if I took it off." He raised an eyebrow. "You're not wearing yours?"

"I wanted to keep you out of it," Stephanie said, "and they wanted Lady Liberty to be...desirable. Having her married wouldn't get quite the same effect."

"Guess not," Bucky said, "though I've seen the posters and, trust me, they made you plenty desirable enough."

Stephanie tensed, expecting censure but there was none in his voice. He also didn't elaborate on what his thoughts were about the posters or how she was dressed in them. "So this Tony, "he said instead, "he the one who--"

They were rounding a tree, onto the trail heading toward home, and he cut off at the sight of Dum Dum leaning against the trunk, a rifle held loosely in his hands.

He reached down and picked up a second one, tossing it to Bucky who caught it easily, releasing Stephanie to hold it in both hands, angled across his chest and pointed toward the ground. He was clearly still tired, his movements slower and more sluggish than normal but still far better than what Stephanie would have expected. For the first time she noticed he was shivering and made a note to find him a coat once they rejoined the group. The thin shirt he was wearing was even less protection against the cold than what she had. The tear at the collar had somehow grown even larger and she kept finding her eyes drawn to it, and the ample section of his naked chest she could see. She glanced up to see Bucky's eyes on her and jerked hers away, face heating in embarrassment. She'd never seen him without a shirt before. Hell, she'd barely ever seen _any_ man's naked chest, aside from a boxing match Bucky had taken her to once. It was only natural she'd be curious.

They started off to rejoin the main group, Dum Dum walking a few feet behind them.  

"You're wearing my clothes" Bucky said without preamble, his tone of voice suggesting something had just occurred to him and he was working it out, "which means you don't have a uniform of your own. "You've been in a show almost the entire time I've been gone. "

"Yes," Stephanie said slowly, tensing once again as she tried to figure out where he was going with this. "So?"

"So," he said, a plea in his voice, "I know I didn't have any helmets in my footlocker so you didn't get one from there. Please tell me the helmet you're wearing is at least standard issue and not some sort of prop."

"The helmet I'm wearing is at least standard issue and not some sort of prop," Stephanie said obediently and his eyes narrowed, recognizing her tone. "What?" Stephanie asked. "You said please."

"You came behind enemy lines," Bucky said slowly, through gritted teeth, "in a dress uniform and a _prop helmet?_ "

Stephanie grinned, thankful she'd left out the part about jumping from a plane and hoping desperately at the same time it never came out, "Just imagine what I could do with a proper uniform and real helmet."

"Stephanie!"

"Sorry?" Stephanie said, giving him an angelic look.

He gave her an incredulous one in return. "No, you're not."

Stephanie sighed. "No," she agreed, "I'm really not." She gave him a tentative smile, hoping this wasn't going to start off round two of their fight, or was it round three?

He transferred the rifle to one hand and threw the other around her waist, dragging her in until she was pressed against his side. It made walking awkward but he didn't seem to mind and she certainly didn't. "I'm still pissed at you by the way."

"I know you are," Stephanie said. She gave him a hopeful look. "But you'll forgive me anyway?"

He kept his eyes fixed ahead. "Don't I always?"

He sounded resigned, or maybe reconciled to his fate. Stephanie pulled away so she could grab his hand again, twining their fingers together and lifting it up to kiss the back of his palm. She lowered it and went to let go only to have him tighten his grip, never breaking his focus from the trail. Stephanie grinned and relaxed, reaching to curl the fingers of her other hand into his forearm.

Behind them, Stephanie heard Dum Dum mutter. "Just friends, my ass."

She ignored him. He clearly just didn't understand their relationship. Bucky was her best friend and she was his, always had been and always would be.

***

"And the rest you know," Stephanie finished, nervously. She and Bucky were sitting crossed legged in front of one another, their heads close as she spoke quietly, telling him everything that had happened since she'd last seen him on that train platform in what, now, felt like another life. She'd left out the part about the grenade during boot camp, as she was slightly worried it might cause him to have an actual heart attack on the spot. She'd also left out the part about what Brandt had wanted her to do. She didn't want Bucky getting arrested for punching a senator and the whole episode was humiliating and she'd much rather just forget about it.

Around them she could hear the quiet murmur of the rest of the men. They'd been forced to stop for the night. The men were exhausted and, what's more, they couldn't risk any kind of light to guide their way and it was too dangerous to try and move in the dark. The lack of movement had increased the risk of hypothermia, even Stephanie was feeling cold which said something. They were split up into shifts, taking turns inside the trucks and tanks, some sleeping while others kept watch and an eye on anyone who might be in danger.

Bucky hadn't said anything and Stephanie absently picked his hand up, massaging it as she'd used to do for him when he got off work, his hands stiff and in pain from a long day of hard labor.

He reached out his other hand, barely visible in the faint moonlight from overhead, and hooked a finger under the chain around her neck. "Finally managed to get your own. What name did you put down?"

"I didn't get any tags," Stephanie said, focusing on his hand. "I meant what I said. They like to pretend I didn't really enlist, didn't actually fool them I guess. Those are yours."

His hand trailed down, tugging the tags out from under her shirt. "You're still wearing them?"

"Of course I am," Stephanie said in exasperation. "Why wouldn't I?"

He didn't answer and she couldn't see him clearly enough to read his expression. He let go of the tags and she caught the hand before he could lower it so she could start working on it.

"Why are you wearing your ring?" she asked, the question one that had been banging around her head for hours. "You could have put it on a chain. You won't be meeting many girls with it on your finger."

He snorted. "There's not a lot of girls on the front lines, Steph. In fact, I'm fairly certain you're the only one."

Not the only one, Stephanie thought. There was Peggy, but Bucky would have no reason to know about that. "You must go into the villages and such," she said. "Hell, you were in one when you were captured."

"Defending it," Bucky corrected. "We weren't there having a good time." He was silent and then asked. "Why are you so big on getting me married off anyway?" His tone shifted, bitterness leeching in. "You don't need me anymore so now you want me gone as soon as possible?"

Stephanie sucked in a sharp breath, stung. She interlaced her fingers with his hand and then found the other and repeated the process. "I came behind enemy lines, alone, on the _hope_ that you were alive because I couldn't fathom a life without you," she said, hurt. "If that doesn't tell you how much I need you," her voice grew sharp, "that living without you is like living without part of my own soul, then I don't know what will, Bucky."

Her mouth snapped closed, her eyes wide and her face on fire with embarrassment at her own words. She was suddenly exceptionally grateful that it was too dark for him to see her clearly. She hadn't intended to tell him that much.

Bucky didn't respond, the outline of his body completely still and Stephanie found herself wishing she could see him more clearly even as she remained happy he couldn't see her. As she'd done earlier, because she was still getting used to the idea that she really had gotten him back, she raised his hands and pressed her lips to his knuckles. She then dropped them in favor of grabbing his face and pulling him close enough to press her forehead against his.  "I just want you to be happy," she whispered. "That's all, Buck. Just happy."

He moved a hand to cup the back of her head and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I am happy," she heard him murmur against her skin. "Stop worrying so much about me."

"That's like asking me to stop breathing so much," she muttered and he chuckled.

"I hear you on that."

Debris crunched and Stephanie looked up to see the silhouette of a soldier standing over her.

"It's your turn in the truck, Ma'am," he said, his voice revealing him as one of the more ardent fans of Lady Liberty who'd been giving her wide eyed, awed looks the entire day.

"I'm fine here," she said politely. "I'm planning to take a turn the same time Sergeant Barnes does. Thank you for the offer though."

The man, who was younger than she was if she recalled correctly, started to say something else only to draw up short as Bucky made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a growl. The guy left and Stephanie turned to see Bucky settling against the trunk of a tree he'd been sitting by, one leg outstretched and the other drawn up.

"It was most likely his turn in the truck," he said dryly, "and he was looking forward to getting to spend time with you."

"Very crowded time," Stephanie said. "Those trucks are rather full." She had zero interest in sleeping inside the trucks with a host of strange men, not because she didn't trust them or thought they'd try something, it was just wildly inappropriate. Granted her reputation was most likely already shot, what little of it had been left. She could just imagine the rumors that would pop up after it got out that Lady Liberty, America's pin up girl, had spent several days in the woods with four hundred men. There was little she could do about it, however, and, as Tony said, the ones who mattered would know the truth. She'd just keep telling herself that, repeatedly.

She moved until she was next to Bucky and then lay down, putting her head on his thigh and trying to get as comfortable as possible. She looked upward, studying the stars through the gaps in the branches over her head.

"Do you forgive me yet?" she asked.

"I forgave you an hour ago."

Stephanie gave him an outraged look she knew he couldn't see. "You could have mentioned that."

"You could have mentioned you were going to run off and become a super soldier."

Stephanie curled up on her side, working an arm under his leg as she did. He lifted it a bit and she slid her arm around the leg, her hand resting just above his knee. "I'm sorry. "

He sighed. "I already said I forgave you."

"I know," Stephanie said, "but I'm still sorry."

"Go to sleep, Stephanie."

She smiled and reached out until she found his arm. "You can't tell me what to do. I outrank you."

He snorted. "In that case, go to sleep, _Captain_."

She let his arm go and draped it over her waist. "Yes, sir, _Sergeant_."

A thought occurred to her a moment later and she arched her head back suddenly, to look up at him. "Hey, you know what?"

"What?"

"I'm six feet tall now," she said happily. "We're the same height."

"That's a dirty lie, you punk," he growled in mock anger. "I'll always be taller."

"Really?" Stephanie asked. "Do you plan to start wearing heels?"

"Go to _sleep,_ Rogers."

"Yes, sir, _Barnes."_

He laughed and she settled down and closed her eyes. They were in the middle of enemy territory in freezing temperatures, hungry and exhausted but Bucky was alive and he was safe and they were together again and going home.

Which meant all was right with the world as far as she was concerned.

***

Everyone was excited the next morning, knowing they could make it home that day if they pushed it. They never stopped for more than a half hour at a time, pressing forward as fast as they were able. The destruction of the Hydra facility wouldn't go unnoticed; the faster they got out the better. It was exhausting for the men, their bodies given no time to rest from the ordeal they'd suffered but, as before, not a single complaint was heard. They grew quieter, more stoic, a fixed look on their faces as they focused on putting one foot in front of the other, but they didn't complain or falter.

When they found the road that led directly into camp their footsteps increased, backs straightening and heads coming up as they saw the end of their journey in sight.

The officers placed Stephanie at the head of the line and walked behind her, like an escort. Bucky was the closest, on her left, his weapon in his hands and a focused look on his face. Stephanie had found him a coat which he had promptly demanded she wear instead. That had led to another, brief, argument that had ended in them agreeing to share it. Currently she had it on, her prop helmet firmly on her head. Bucky and Dum Dum had insisted, saying the more she looked like a soldier the better.

Ahead of them she saw the gate leading into the camp and took a deep breath, calming her nerves. They'd already been spotted and she saw men running to raise the bar to let them in.

Stephanie stood as straight as she could and fixed her eyes ahead of her. She saw soldiers running to meet them and tensed as, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Hodge She'd seen him in the group the first day she'd preformed her show but it had been clear he hadn't recognized her and she'd done nothing to change that. Now she kept her eyes forward, unwilling to let her moment be potentially ruined by watching him realize who she really was. The men of the camp formed an aisle for them to walk through and, as they did, a loud cheer began to rise, the men clapping and slapping them on the shoulder as they passed.

Phillips appeared, Carter at his side and Stephanie focused on breathing, in through the mouth and out through the nose. She felt Bucky's eyes on her and glanced at him to see him looking back steadily. She patted him on the back and then came to a stop before Phillips and Carter. She saluted and, before he could start in on her, said, "Sir, some of these men need medical attention." Best to get that out of the way. There was no reason they should have to wait just so Phillips could have a bigger audience yelling at her.

Phillips gave a nod and then orderlies were rushing forward, helping the men toward the tents. One tried to help Bucky but he shook his head, refusing to leave. Stephanie took another deep breath.

"I'd like to surrender myself for disciplinary action." It was the last thing she wanted to say, or do, but it was the right thing to do. Bucky had been turned away as she spoke, moving another injured man forward to the orderly who'd been trying to help him, but turned back as he heard her speak.

Phillips looked away with a sigh and put his hands on his hips. "That won't be necessary." Stephanie thought he looked disappointed, but then he looked at her with what might actually have been a smile.

Stephanie could have collapsed from relief but instead simply nodded. "Yes, sir."

Phillips turned and walked away. As he passed Carter, Stephanie heard him say, "Faith, huh?"

She stepped forward and grinned at Stephanie. "You're late."

"I ended up with a few more friends than I'd expected," Stephanie said. "They wouldn't fit in your plane."

A shout rang out suddenly and Stephanie turned to see Tony pushing through the crowd. Before she could react he grabbed her in a massive bear hug and lifted her clear off her feet.

"One hour!" he boomed. "You couldn't wait one hour for me to get back and go with you? Do you have any idea how worried I was?"

Stephanie grabbed his shoulders, balancing herself as her feet still weren't touching the ground.

"I didn't know when you were going to be back," she said in exasperation, "and, besides, it wasn't exactly safe."

"As if I ever cared about that." He set her down finally, carefully, and moved his hands to her shoulders. "I would have gone with you," he said firmly, his eyes locked on hers. "You only had to ask."

"I know," Stephanie said, putting her hands on his forearms. "That's why I didn't."

She heard noise behind her and glanced back to see Dum Dum leaning over to talk to Bucky. He, in turn, was staring at Tony with an expression Stephanie couldn't place. She seemed to be getting a lot of expressions from him she couldn't place lately.

Tony got her attention back by hugging her, hard, and she replied in kind, wrapping her arms up around his neck and pushing up on her toes to reach his ear. "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to worry you. I should have left a note."

"As if that would have made things better," Tony muttered in exasperation.

Behind them someone suddenly clapped their hands and then Stephanie heard Bucky shout, "Hey! Let's hear it for Captain Liberty!"

Immediately the crowd around her started cheering and applauding. Bucky threw an arm around her shoulders and pulled her away from Tony and into the crowd. A moment later several of the soldiers knelt and hooked their hands together under her legs and behind her back. They hoisted her up onto their shoulders and the cheering continued.

Looking down, Stephanie caught sight of Agent Carter and Tony beaming with pride at her. Behind them in the crowd she saw Hodge, a dawning realization growing in his eyes, and felt a sense of resignation at the thought she'd probably have to deal with him at some point.

Her eyes found Bucky. He was clapping, his eyes going about in the crowd, the look on his face...sad almost. He looked to her, almost as if he felt her watching him, and she read a mix of pride and fear in his eyes.

There was no going back. From this point on, whether she wanted it or not, her life would never be the same.

He was afraid for her. Afraid at what her future might hold, now that the prospect of being safe at home, or on stage, was closed to her.

She looked back at him steadily. Wherever I go, are you coming with me?

The look he gave her in return was downright withering.

What do you think?

Stephanie smiled.

 

 

 


	15. Chapter 15

Later, Stephanie would feel grateful for the relative peace and quiet of the journey home as both attributes were in short supply after they got back. Bucky was soon dragged away to the Medical Tents while she was taken to be debriefed. She turned over the weird blue capsules she'd brought back to Howard, who was ecstatic to have new toys to play with, and then gave a rundown of what the layout of the facility had looked like. She also mentioned the map and various weapons and vehicles she'd seen. Phillips wanted to know what went on in the Isolation Ward but Stephanie didn't know and told them they would have to ask Sergeant Barnes about that.

"Barnes, huh," Phillips said while, beside him, Peggy straightened at the name. "That's the one that started all this. Got him back did you?"

"I did," Stephanie said with pride. Her eyes went, instinctively, to Phillips' desk and she frowned. "What happened to the letters?"

"What do you think?" Phillips asked. "Mailed them. Not like anyone was expecting you to come waltzing back, certainly not with a pack of missing soldiers in your wake."

Stephanie gaped at him. "You mailed them?" she stood up so fast she nearly knocked the chair she was sitting in over.

"Relax," Phillips growled. "We got access to a phone line. It's going to cost us a fortune but we're letting the men call home, let their families know they're fine."

Stephanie nodded, lodging the information in her mind. Bucky would need to call his parents and sister as soon as he was better. Fortunately, the letters were nowhere close to making it across the sea and to their door yet so they had time. She hadn't seen any letters from them in his footlocker but had no doubt she'd simply missed them, probably under the stack of writing paper if she had to guess. Bucky's parents and sister adored him and the last thing Stephanie wanted was for them to go through what she'd felt thinking him gone, even for a second.

Phillips dismissed her soon after. He had a lot of logistics to take care of, getting the men their calls, taking care of where he was going to put them all, dealing with the weapons brought back and planning their next steps. Peggy stayed behind with him to help him plan.

After she left, Stephanie went back to her tent and changed into her civilian clothes again. She considered trying to take Bucky's uniform back to his footlocker but decided against it. Things were chaotic in that area and she didn't feel like trying to fight her way through.

Instead she gathered it up and headed toward the Medical Tent to personally return the uniform to Bucky. It'd be better than the clothing he was currently wearing and, besides that, he cut a very sharp figure in it.

She frowned, wondering where that thought had come from, but then shrugged it off. Bucky did look good in his dress uniform; her noticing was no different than noting a dress looked particularly good on one of her female friends.

The Medical Tent came into view and she smiled, looking forward to seeing him. It had only been a few hours but that was already much to long as far as she was concerned.

Much to long indeed.

***

Stephanie slumped down on the stool next to the one where Tony was lounging, his back against the bar behind him. It had been nearly a week since the rescue of the men and her mood was split somewhere between depression and wanting to punch something.

She hadn't seen Bucky once.

She'd tried to visit him, repeatedly, the most recent time mere hours earlier. The officers had been given a small area in the back of the Medical Tent, sectioned off from the rest of the space by a curtain. That area was then broken into tiny, semi-private rooms by still more curtains. Reaching the area required Stephanie to walk the full length of the Medical Tent and, every time, she barely took ten steps before she found herself mobbed by well-meaning, grateful soldiers as well as a few more ardent fans of Lady Liberty. This had, in turn, led to the nurses asking her to stay away from the tent all together in order to give the men a chance to rest and recover.

On one attempt she'd almost made it back to him, close enough to see his feet lying on the bed behind a curtain. Before she could get there, however, a young, unfairly pretty nurse had stepped out from his area, spotted her and stopped her, informing her that _James_ was resting and not up for visitors. The way the woman had said his name, as if _she_ was somehow his friend and Stephanie the stranger, had made her want to yell at the woman, or possibly punch her, but she'd refrained, barely. Instead, not trusting herself to speak, she'd clenched her hands into fists, walked out and gone to her tent where she'd curled around his uniform jacket on her cot and cried from sheer frustration.

In the between time, she'd tried to keep herself busy but Peggy and Colonel Phillips had no use for her yet and there was no way she was getting back on that stage to do another show. Phillips had already contacted Brandt to let him know what had happened and he'd responded by demanding she return so he could personally present her with a medal for bravery.

Stephanie wasn't stupid enough to go. Not only did the thought of seeing Brandt make her almost physically ill but she was convinced if she set foot back on American soil they would never let her leave again, for one reason or another. She'd proven her worth, was at the front where she'd dreamed of being and there was no way in hell she was ever going back to what she'd been before. They'd have to drag her out and, given the serum coursing through her veins, good luck with that.

In the end, she'd spent most of her time with Tony and the girls. There was a village nearby with a small tavern and which was where she was currently. Tony had been held up by an order to see Phillips but had promised to meet her later. He'd just arrived and given her an announcement that had laid bare the one regret she did have from everything that had happened.

That being the fact she hadn't taken into account how her actions would affect Tony and everyone else in the Lady Liberty show.

"They did what now?" she asked in shock.

Beside her, Tony gave her a lazy grin and raised his glass, his first which he'd barely touched, in a salute.

"Killed me off," he said with good humor. "All part of the game."

Stephanie shook her head, to stunned to speak. She spun around on her own stool so she could match his position, leaning against the bar and looking out into the room. Men from the camp, many of them freed prisoners, were present, drinking or talking in small groups. There were also locals there, a lot of them women as the men of the town were off fighting. A handful of men had approached her and asked for a dance but Stephanie had politely declined, citing fatigue.  

"So," she said slowly, still trying to process everything he'd told her, "the official story is you were assassinated and I took up the shield in your name and vengeance--"

"Justice," Tony corrected.

Stephanie snorted. "Justice," she amended, "and took off after those responsible, rescuing the soldiers almost by accident." Figures. If it had been Tony, it'd have been a heroic mission where he'd emerged victorious against all odds by virtue of the fact he was Captain freaking America. She did it and the story was she'd run off in a fit of emotion and, along the way, somehow stumbled into several hundred soldiers. She had no doubt Brandt would work on spinning it to make it eventually look like the soldiers had done most of the work, bringing her along for the ride as some sort of damn mascot.

Tony nodded. "Thus saving the government from having to admit that they lied to the American public and their wealthy donors about who the real Captain America was."

Stephanie blinked. "What?"

Tony gave her a knowing look. "Please, did you really think I wouldn't catch on? I'm supposed to be the hero who chased a spy through the streets of New York but we both know that isn't true. I heard the rumors when we went through the area, how it wasn't supposedly a man who did it but a young, blond woman."

"You never said anything," Stephanie said in surprise.

He shrugged. "Wasn't sure, not until I saw you marching back in here with an entire army at your back anyway. Made things pretty clear then."

Stephanie nodded slowly. "I suppose." She didn't bother to deny it, figuring that, of all people, Tony deserved to know. "So you're dead and they get out of having to admit they lied or of having to really admit that it was a woman who saved the day." She frowned, disquiet settling in. "The question now is, what do they plan to do with that woman?"

"Guess we'll both find out," Tony said, lifting his glass again.

"Can't wait," Stephanie muttered. Once again Brandt and the people in charge seemed intent on denying her worth but at least it seemed they weren't planning to entirely push her to the side again or, worse, try to pass off what she'd done on someone else like Tony. She didn't know what they _did_ plan to do with her but admitting she'd saved the men, bumbling on a quest for vengeance or not, was _something._   

Tony leaned toward her. "That the one?"

"One what?" Stephanie muttered. She raised her head, and froze at the sight of a young woman who'd just walked into the tavern. Out of her nurse's uniform and in a short green dress and matching jacket she was the picture of a proper lady who would probably never dream of doing anything reckless or unwomanly like trying to become a soldier. Stephanie glowered, her mood souring. Reaching out, she grabbed Tony's drink and tossed it back. There was very little left and she couldn't get drunk anyway, a fact she now found herself bemoaning.

"The one that had the audacity to chase you away from Barnes," Tony said, looking far to amused. "You're right, she is pretty."

"She's not that pretty," Stephanie said in annoyance, "and I don't recall ever mentioning her looks." It didn't matter to her if the girl was pretty or not, or if she'd spent the last week probably fawning all over Bucky when Stephanie, who'd risked her life to save him and had spent months before that feeling his absence like a physical wound, had spent less than five minutes with him since they'd gotten back. Her fingers tightened on the glass still in her hand and she felt it give slightly under her fingers. Several guys walked over to the woman to ask her to dance and Stephanie forced herself to set the glass down carefully before she shattered it completely. The possessiveness she'd felt over Bucky as a child was definitely returning in full force, she silently acknowledged. She should probably work on getting over it but, for the moment, she couldn't dredge up the desire to do so.  

"I don't think you have much to worry about," Tony said, cheerfully. "Barnes was half dead on his feet when I saw him and he still looked at me the same way you're looking at the nurse right now."

"And what way is that?" Stephanie said through gritted teeth.

Tony actually had the audacity to laugh. "Like he was ready to kill me with his bare hands."

"Bucky doesn't even know you," Stephanie said, forcing her eyes away from the other woman. She spotted Hodge, staring at her openly from a back corner and felt her heart sink at the glassy look in his eyes. "He has no reason to dislike you."

Tony snorted. "You mean aside from the fact that he's head over heels for you and he thinks I'm competition?"

The words registered and Stephanie's head snapped around to stare at Tony. "You think he's _what_?"

"Head over heels," Tony repeated, "same way you are about him except you seem committed to being rather blind about it."

"I should have knowed you was a woman," an alcohol laden voice slurred suddenly next to her ear and Stephanie grimaced as the sour smell hit her, turning to see Hodge suddenly right in front of her face. Beside her, Tony started to get up only to stop as Stephanie put a hand on his chest.

"Why don't you leave, Hodge?" she said. "Before you embarrass yourself?" More. Before he embarrassed himself more.

Hodge sneered at her and Stephanie wished, for not the first time, that Phillips hadn't taken all the soldiers who hadn't been chosen for the super soldier program and stuck them in his own unit. She'd gotten a few dirty looks from some of the others she'd recognized but, so far, no one had attempted to bother her.

Hodge shook his head. "Ain't fair," he said, anger fueled by alcohol lacing his tone. He stabbed a finger at her. "Damn liar is what you are, and Erskine's little pet. Rest of us never had a chance, not a chance. He'd already chosen you before we even started." The look on his face changed and Stephanie sighed in resignation, already knowing what he was going to say. Bullies like him always went for the easiest dig rather than try for anything original. "Guess you had a step up on us, though, right?" His eyes raked down her body in a way that made her skin crawl. "Or guess I should say a leg up...or two, right? Can't blame Erskine for going for a piece of ass, not that you were much to look at then, but maybe he had foresight, yeah? Knew what he'd be getting once the serum was done." He stepped back and threw his arms open. "Guy shafts his own program to get a pretty skirt, can you imagine?" He leaned forward, in her face again before she could react, rancid breath rushing over her and making her grimace with disgust. "You," he slurred, "must be one hell of a lay. What do you say you and I get out of here and you show me just what it was you can do that convinced Erskine to sell out his life's work just to get you in the sack."

Stephanie tensed while, beside her, Tony shoved to his feet, the stool clattering behind him.

Before either of them could do anything a hand came around Hodge's shoulder. He was jerked back and around, in time to meet Bucky's fist plowing into his face. The blow snapped him back and Stephanie felt Tony grab her and jerk her to the side, out of the way of Hodge's falling body. He landed sprawled across a table and Bucky leaned over him, placing an arm like a bar against his throat to keep him there.

"Apologize," Bucky commanded, his voice flat. "Now." He looked tired, still worn out, but he held himself straight and with ease, no hint of pain in his face or eyes as he looked down on Hodge. He was wearing dark pants and a white t-shirt and looked as if he'd recently showered, his hair still damp and slicked back. Stephanie felt her heart stutter in her chest at the sight of him and couldn't help the smile that broke out on her face of its own accord.

Hodge sniggered, but it faded as he saw Tony step forward so both he and Bucky were standing over him. Several other men who'd been close enough to see Hodge bothering her, if not to hear what he said, also moved closer, standing behind Bucky's shoulder. They were all men Stephanie remembered from the rescue, including Dum Dum and a British soldier she'd befriended for no other reason than he and Bucky shared a first name.

Hodge scowled. "Didn't mean nothing by it," he grumbled, only to grunt as Bucky increased pressure.

"I said apologize," he said shortly.

Hodge very clearly didn't want to do anything of the sort but it was just as obvious that, unlike at training, he had zero help on his side.

"Sorry," he finally ground out through gritted teeth. Stephanie stepped forward and put a hand on Bucky's free arm, curling her fingers into his bicep.  

"Let him up," she said quietly. "Please."

He obeyed and Stephanie grabbed Hodge's arm and dragged him to his feet, before shoving him toward the door. "Get out," she ordered. "Now."

"Don't need you protecting me, whore," Hodge said, or started to say. He didn't get anything else out because Stephanie punched him, knocking him back four feet before he hit a table, rolled over it and hit the ground on the other side.

"I was starting to think you'd gone soft," Bucky said from where he'd come up to stand beside her.

"I'm in the military now," Stephanie said with a sigh. "I was trying to be more professional."  

Dum Dum and the other James grabbed Hodge and dragged him up. Dum Dum snapped a salute to her and said, "Don't worry, Captain Liberty. We'll see the trash gets taken out."

"Thank you," Stephanie said and then stood, self-consciously, as the rest of the tavern stared at her. She could see the nurse standing off in one corner also staring and Stephanie could just imagine what she must think.  

"Alright," Tony said, stepping forward. "Fun's over. Back to the party. We're supposed to be celebrating!"

A cheer rang out, someone turned the music up and, within moments, the room was back to its previous patterns, Stephanie no longer the center of attention.

"Thank you," she said to Tony, in relief. She stepped away to indicate Bucky and said, "Bucky, I'd like you to meet Tony. Tony, this is--"

"James Buchanan Barnes," Tony said with delight, stepping forward to grab Bucky's hand. "Going by what Steph says I rather expected you to be ten feet tall and sporting a halo."

Stephanie felt herself go red. "Tony! I did not say that."

Tony laughed. "Not in so many words, Sweetheart."

Bucky was giving the other man an appraising look, his own expression cautious. "So you're Steph's co-star," he said slowly and Tony nodded.

"That's me," he said cheerfully. "Co-star and general bodyguard half the time, not that she needed it."

"I needed you," Stephanie said in reassurance. She could still clearly remember the difference from before Tony had come and after. She owed him a great deal and wasn't about to let him minimize it.

Bucky's face darkened and he gave a tight lipped smile. "You two been spending a lot of time together the last week?"

Stephanie's own mood darkened and she frowned, a sense of annoyance toward Bucky flashing through her. "Well it isn't like you couldn't have asked to see me." If he had they would have had no choice but to come get her and escort her back in to see him.

 His eyes narrowed. "I didn't realize I needed to extend an invitation for you to come visit me. You didn't seem to need one to come rescue me."

Stephanie tensed and straightened, ready to respond, only to cut off as Tony gave a long suffering, exasperated sigh.

"You two," he muttered. He frowned at Stephanie. "I thought it was the nurse you wanted to feed to Hydra, not him."

"Nurse?" Bucky asked. "What nurse?"

"The stupid one who wouldn't let me see you!" Stephanie said, her frustration boiling over. "Her and the other ones! Every damn time I tried they made me leave. They said I was getting the men worked up and causing a distraction!"

Bucky was staring at her, his eyes wide at the strength of her outburst. Then, to her confusion, relief flooded his eyes. His shoulders, which she hadn't realized were tense, relaxed and a delighted smile crossed his face. "You tried to come see me and they wouldn't let you," he murmured almost to himself and Stephanie rolled her eyes.

"Of course I did," she almost growled through clenched teeth. "Every damn day I tried, sometimes several times a day."

"Language," Bucky said mildly and Stephanie gave him a dirty look. A drink she hadn't ordered was set down by her elbow and she reached for it only to have Bucky take it out of her hand.

"Should you be drinking?" Stephanie asked as he took an oddly slow, deliberate swallow from the glass and he shrugged.

"Not on any medication, should be fine."

Stephanie spotted movement from the corner of her eye and looked to see _that woman_ headed in their direction. She leveled a look on the other woman that, by all rights, should have incinerated her on the spot, and then stepped forward and wrapped an arm around Bucky's waist. She laid her other hand on his chest and put her head on his shoulder, relaxing only when she felt his arm slide around her waist in turn.

"You're not going to try and lock me in your closet again, are you?" Bucky asked, clearly recognizing the return of possessive, six-year-old Stephanie. He seemed more amused than anything else, however, so she figured he wasn't that upset.

"I don't know," she replied shortly. "Are you planning to ship off to war, get captured by Hydra or spend a week surrounded by idiot nurses and avoiding me again?"

Bucky didn't get a chance to answer as the woman reached them and smiled...at Bucky.

"James, I didn't know they were releasing you today. I'm glad to see you're feeling better."

"Thanks, Allison," Bucky said and Stephanie barely managed to keep herself from mockingly repeating the woman's name. Beside her, Tony looked about ready to keel over from laughter and she spared a second to glare at him as well.

"You never told me Stephanie tried to come see me," Bucky continued and Allison looked startled.

"Oh, I didn't realize you knew her that well," she said. "I figure she was just coming to greet the troops, you know, as Lady Liberty and all." She glanced at Stephanie as she spoke. Her look was disapproving but, as there were a number of things another woman might disapprove of concerning a showgirl turned solider, Stephanie couldn't begin to guess what her particular problem was.

"Known her all my life," Bucky said, the slightest hint of censure in his own voice. "Anyway, thanks for looking after me this week, Nurse Jackson. I appreciate all you did."

The dismissal couldn't have been more clear. The woman's face flushed slightly and she gave a stiff nod. "I'll see you around, Sergeant."

She moved away and Bucky set the glass down on the counter and turned to wrap his second arm around Stephanie's waist. "I demand the dance I'm owed."

Stephanie blinked at him in surprise. "Excuse me?"

"Back before I left," Bucky said. "You promised me a dance next time. This is next time."

Stephanie thought back to the night before he'd left, when he'd come home from dancing and moved her from the couch back to his bed. She hadn't thought twice about it then but, for some reason, now the entire incident made her stomach twist in an odd fashion inside her and she ducked her head as heat flooded her face.

"All right," she said. She turned to Tony. "I think I saw Polly earlier. Are you going to ask her to dance?"

"Been thinking about it," Tony said agreeably. "She's a nice girl."

"She is," Stephanie agreed, "and she's certainly got eyes for you."

"Which makes me question her decision making abilities," Tony said with good humor. He pushed to his feet, shaking his head at her and Stephanie frowned.

"What?"

"Nothing," Tony said. He reached out and grasped her shoulder, squeezing it affectionately. "I'll see you around, Sweetheart." He nodded at Bucky. "Nice to meet you, Sergeant."

"You too," Bucky said. Tony moved off into the crowd and Bucky frowned. "He's interested in a girl named Polly? And you're fine with that?"

"Of course," Stephanie said. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Bucky opened his mouth as if to respond, only to shut it again. "Never mind, it's nothing." He released her in order to hold a hand out. Stephanie grinned and allowed him to lead her out onto the floor where he wrapped an arm around her waist and guided one of her hands to rest on his shoulder. She raised an eyebrow at him, the music around them upbeat and fast. "This isn't a slow song, Bucky."

"Sorry," he said, apologetically. "Still not quite 100% yet. This is about all I can muster at the moment." He nodded his head over his shoulder toward the door Hodge had been dragged through earlier. "So, who was that asshole before? He acted like he knew you."

"Guy from boot camp." Stephanie said. "He was a bully. I seem to attract them."

"That you do," Bucky agreed.

Stephanie hesitated and then found herself blurting, "I never slept with Erskine, or anyone else." She placed her hands flat on Bucky's chest and looked down at his shoes in embarrassment. "There were a lot of guys around me as Lady Liberty but I wasn't going with any of them, Buck. You can ask Tony or any of the girls, they'll tell you. There was never anyone." She didn't know why it mattered to her that Bucky knew that. Their marriage wasn't real and, as he'd told her before he left, she was free to see someone if she wanted, but she hadn't and, even if she didn't understand it, it mattered to her that he knew that.  

Bucky grabbed her hands and pulled them up to wrap around his neck. Stephanie obediently linked her fingers together behind his head while he wrapped both arms around her waist and pulled her close enough to rest his forehead against hers. "I know. Guy just needed his teeth rearranged is all."

Stephanie sighed in relief. He pulled her even closer and, impulsively, she said, "You know, you should show a little more decorum. You're married."

He laughed. "To you. I think I'm allowed to slow dance with my own wife."

"Your fake wife," Stephanie corrected and he shrugged.

"Well, we're barely moving as it is so we can just call it fake slow dancing."

Stephanie smiled at him, only to feel herself falter as Tony's words from earlier, before Hodge had derailed things, ran through her mind.  

_He's head over heels for you...same way you are about him._

"What's wrong?" Bucky asked in concern, catching the change in her expression.

"Nothing," Stephanie said. She moved her arms to wrap around him again and rested her head on his shoulder. He kept his arms where they were and she relaxed into him, shutting her eyes as she enjoyed being with her best friend again.  

And he was her best _friend_ she told herself firmly. She and Bucky were friends, always had been and always would be. They didn't see each other _that_ way. Not, she admitted privately, that she would know what _that_ way even felt like. She'd never been in love before but, even so, surely she'd know if she were, right? It'd be kind of obvious she would think.

As for Bucky, he wasn't really treating her any different than he ever had so that proved right there he wasn't in love with her.

Tony was just being ridiculous. She wasn't in love with Bucky and he certainly wasn't in love with her.

They were friends and that was all there was to it.

Just friends.  

Right?

 

 

 


	16. Chapter 16

Stephanie stumbled sharply, for at least the fourth or fifth time in the last few seconds, and stopped with a frustrated exhale. She'd hoped the area around the makeshift barracks would be easier to navigate now that the ground was dry but she hadn't taken into account the countless boots that had walked through it when it was mud. The result was dirt shoved into mounds and divots leaving it almost more uneven and difficult to walk through than when it had been wet.

It didn't help that she hadn't worn her stupid Lady Liberty boots for long enough to have nearly forgotten how to walk in them. The last thing she wanted was to have a broken ankle set her back just when she'd started to get where she'd always wanted to go.

She chewed on her lower lip absently, looking around at the tents and men wandering through them. At the edge of her vision she suddenly caught sight of one of the men from Bucky's tent, the older one who'd spoken to her initially, and she quickly called out to him. He paused mid-step, turned and came toward her.

"I'm sorry to bother you," Stephanie said. She held up the bundle of clothing she was clutching in her arms. "I said I'd bring his uniform back but I seem to be in danger of snapping an ankle on my way. Would it be too much trouble to ask for an escort?"

"Of course not," he said, offering her an arm. Stephanie grinned in relief and moved the bundle of clothing to one arm as she wrapped her other around his bicep. "I was nearly ready to take off these dratted shoes and just go barefoot." She frowned as a thought occurred to her. "I just realized I never asked your name before. I'm sorry."

"You weren't exactly having the best of days," he replied as they started walking. "And the name is Jefferson, ma'am. Jefferson Michaels."

Stephanie nodded and relaxed as he led her through the barracks, managing to find the flattest routes through sheer experience of having walked them repeatedly. It wasn't long before she spotted Bucky's tent, the flaps pinned back to allow the early morning sun and cool air to drift inside. Jefferson stopped a few feet away and tipped an imaginary hat to her. "Here we are. I believe he's inside, or at least he was the last I saw him."

"Thank you," Stephanie said.

"I think it would be more appropriate to thank _you,_ ma'am," he said in reply. "I've lost a lot of friends over here and it's thanks to you I haven't lost more."

Stephanie felt herself flush with embarrassment. She was continuing to get a lot of gratitude on an almost daily basis. She kept insisting it wasn't just her, that they'd have never made it back without a joint effort but the response was that effort wouldn't have been possible if she hadn't been there to initiate it.

Now she simply nodded in a quiet response and stood as Jefferson continued on his way. After he was gone she turned and walked to the entrance of the tent. It was empty except for Bucky who she spotted immediately seated on the edge of his small cot. He had the sheaf of paper from his footlocker balanced on one leg and was in the process of writing a letter, his head bowed low over the page as he concentrated.

Stephanie felt her heart jump at the sight of him and Tony's words drifted through her mind, for about the twentieth or so time since he'd spoken them. Mentally, she made a note to yell at him later before he left. Thanks to him she'd started questioning everything Bucky said and did, trying to puzzle out how Tony had come to the conclusion he had. She'd also started questioning her own actions. She'd never been in love, had no idea what it even felt like, but surely she would know if she was, right? She'd seen her parents, Bucky's parents, couples in the halls at school. She knew what love looked like and, yes, she would admit she and Bucky did not entirely act like friends all the time. But they'd been together forever, even having sleepovers as little kids where they'd slept in one giant tangle in the same bed. Their relationship was simply _different_ was all. People might not understand it but that didn't automatically mean it must be romantic.

Right?

She sighed. The sound must have been louder than she'd intended because Bucky's head snapped up. His eyes widened and Stephanie saw his mouth actually gape open an inch or so. She felt herself flush, yet again, and self-consciously wrapped both arms around his uniform, pressing it against her chest. That was ridiculous, she mentally chided herself. She'd done shows, posters, and just paraded through the barracks without a thought so why the heck was she now suddenly self-conscious?

"What?" she asked when it became apparent Bucky was quite content to gape at her. "It's not like you haven't seen the posters."

"They did not do you justice," Bucky said with heartfelt sincerity and Stephanie bit back a half smile at the compliment. She took a step forward into the tent, holding his uniform out.

"I brought your clothes back."

"You can keep them," Bucky groused even as he put the papers down to get up and come get them. "I hate the thing."

"That's too bad," Stephanie blurted as he took the bundle from her. "I really liked how they looked on you." Her face went red hot and Bucky froze, staring at her. Then a slow, pleased smile spread across his face.

"If that's the case I may have to rethink my feelings on the subject." He turned away and went to crouch in front of his footlocker to put them away. Stephanie took a few steps farther in, nodding toward the papers.

"Who are you writing?"

"My folks," he closed the lid and stood back up. "I was able to call them to let them know the rumors of my death were greatly exaggerated." He faced her again, raising an eyebrow. "They very much would like to speak with you by the way when you have time."

Stephanie felt her blood run cold and her eyes widened in horror. "You _told_ them?"

"Of course," Bucky said as if she really should have known that which, to be honest, she should have. "They promised your mother to keep an eye out for you and promised me later before I left. Next thing they know no one can get ahold of you or has even seen you in weeks."

Stephanie flinched in guilt, clutching her hands together and looking down at her boots. "I'm sorry. It didn't occur to me they'd even check in."

He stepped in front of her and a finger came up under her chin, lifting her head up. Stephanie looked up into his eyes and her heart fluttered inside her chest in a way she'd never felt before.

"You know my parents love you like their own," Bucky said, "and Rebecca thinks of you like a sister."

"I owe them an apology," Stephanie said with a sigh.

"Yes," Bucky agreed, reached to take her hands in his, "you really do. You need to get it through your head you're not as alone as you like to think you are, you punk."

"Jerk," Stephanie muttered. "You know, when I went over to get you and Phillips figured I wasn't coming back he started a letter of condolence for me. It was made out to Senator Brandt, the guy who oversees the show." The slimy, scumbag who oversaw the show but she left those descriptors out.

"Idiots," Bucky muttered, looking to the left as something caught his eye. "They should have made it out to my parents and sent it along with mine." He sighed and looked back at her with a frown. "On a different topic, what are you dressed like that for? I thought you said you were done with the show."

"I am," Stephanie said. "This is for a new photoshoot. I have to go look pensive over Captain America's grave. You know, propaganda and all that." She grinned up at him, brilliantly. "They're going to let me fight, Buck," she said, her excitement boiling over. "I don't know the specifics but they're going to let me. They're going to stick with the story, that I took up Captain America's shield after he fell and carried on in his place."

Bucky frowned, troubled. "You going to keep the same name? Captain America?"

"I don't think so," Stephanie said. "I'm hoping they'll let me go with Captain Liberty but I suppose even just keeping Lady Liberty would be fine."

Bucky nodded. Stephanie could tell he wasn't happy with the idea of her being in danger again but he also probably already knew there was no way to put that proverbial horse back in the barn. He looked away from her, fixing his eyes on some distant spot in the tent and Stephanie stood quietly, letting him work it through.

Finally, he took a deep breath, let it out and looked back to her, the old, cocky, Bucky Barnes smirk on his face. "Photoshoot, huh? You mind if I join you?"

Stephanie smiled and reached for his arm which he immediately held out for her.

"Absolutely," she said happily. "Let's go."

***

"You'd think they'd have waited for an overcast day," Bucky said, glancing up at the brilliant blue sky overhead and the lazy white clouds drifting across. "It's not like they'd have had to wait long, it changes every few minutes."

"They wanted it this way on purpose," Stephanie explained, trying her best not to curse as her boots tried their utmost to kill her. The clearing they'd picked looked level enough on the surface but the thick grass turned out to be simply hiding the small divots and small mounds of dirt out to get her. Bucky absently looped an arm around her waist and pulled her against his side and she shot him a grateful look as it helped steady her. "It's all symbolic," she continued. "Bright new day, hope dawning anew, don't give up the sun is still shining, that sort of thing. An overcast sky would look--"

"Hopeless," Bucky cut in. "I get it. They do love their propaganda don't they?"

"That they do," Stephanie said. They came to a stop in the center of the clearing. A mound had been built up, mostly covered over with grass and flowers with bits of dirt poking through. A makeshift wooden cross stood forlornly at one end with a helmet hanging off the top. An empty pair of boots stood at the base and a rifle was leaning against it. The clearing itself was filled with the crew set up with all their equipment to take pictures. Tony was there as well leaning against a truck along with Polly who'd come along to watch but seemed far more interested in gazing adoringly at Tony.

He pushed off the truck as they approached and came over to hand her the prop shield she'd given him in the movie. "Ready to take on my job, Sweetheart?"

"I better be," Stephanie replied. "You're all leaving after this, aren't you?"

He nodded. "Yep, managed to push it back long enough to watch this. Feels like the end of our show, you know? Wanted to see it."

"I understand." A deep rush of sadness flooded her as she realized she wasn't going to get to see Tony or Polly or any of the other girls for a very, very long time.

"Hey, now," Tony said, lightly chucking her under the chin. "Don't go getting greedy now. No one gets to have it all."

"I know," Stephanie said, looking down to scrub at her eyes quickly before anyone noticed. "I'm fine."

An arm slid around her waist again and she looked up at Bucky who was glaring at Tony. "What did you say to her," he started to demand, only to stop as Stephanie laughed and put a hand on his chest.

"It's fine," she insisted. "It wasn't him. I was just being nostalgic is all. I won't miss the show, but I will miss the people I worked with."

One of the producers called her and she took a deep breath before putting her chin up and walking over to the fake grave. She grabbed the straps on the back of the shield, held it down near her knees and focused on the grave in what she hoped was a pensive look. They'd also want stoic, confident and brave but they would start with this one and move one after.

 

She got about five minutes in before she spontaneously burst into tears.

 

One second she was looking at the grave, her mind supplying her with images of it being real and of it being Bucky in there because she'd failed him or, worse yet, it being empty because she hadn't been able to find him to bring him home and the next thing she knew she was sobbing as hard as that day in the woods.

Bucky was suddenly there and she dropped the shield and threw herself against him, grabbing his shirt and pressing her face into his chest while he wrapped one arm around her and rubbed her back with the other.

"Anyone ever tell you that your imagination is a real bastard?" he asked casually and she gave a choked laugh. "I'm not dead," he said gently, "and I'm certainly not in some hole in the ground with flowers growing out of it."

"You could have been," Stephanie said dully. She was starting to calm down but kept her face pressed against his chest to avoid having to acknowledge she'd just broken down in front of the entire crew.

"But I'm not," Bucky said firmly. "Stop focusing on what could have been, Steph. Trust me, it'll drive you insane."

She nodded and pulled away from him, keeping her hands curled into his shirt. "You're right. I'll do my best."

"You gotta admit," Tony said suddenly, walking up to meet them, "it ain't exactly fair to expect you to do this, after what you went through." He glanced at Bucky appraisingly, "I've got an idea that might help, Sergeant, if you'd be willing."

Bucky was, which led to him being taken back to camp to get changed into his dress uniform. Once he returned they put him at the head of the grave, angling him so he was managing to salute both her and the grave in one motion. Stephanie faced dead ahead with him in her line of sight and if there were still tears tracking down her face at least it added to the overall imagery and didn't look as if she were about to break down entirely.

By the time it was over she was emotionally exhausted and more than happy to head home. She took a step or two and immediately felt her foot twist to one side as the ridiculous heel of her boot caught on a low point of ground. The heel sank into the soft dirt as her foot twisted, just enough to jerk her off balance entirely. Her feet went out from under her and she went down hard, catching herself with her hands as she hit the ground. She swore as grit and debris raked through her palms and knees and slapped the ground in frustration, which was stupid as it just sent another burst of pain through her hands.

"I hate these things!" she shouted at no one in particular. "And whose idea was it to wear them everywhere? They're made for a stage! A nice, flat stage with no stupid hidden holes trying to kill me!"

Bucky knelt in front of her, taking her hands and checking them over. "Language," he said in amusement and she glared at him.

"You wear the damn things and we'll see how good your language is," she said in annoyance.

He chuckled. He got to his feet and grabbed her arms, pulling her up. Then, before she could react, he slid an arm around her waist, knelt to slide his other under her legs and straightened, swinging her up into his arms in one, easy motion.

"I can walk," Stephanie groused and he raised an eyebrow.

"Recent history begs to differ." He headed toward the car and, the others members of the crew scrambled to get out of their way.

"I'm burning these when I get back," Stephanie said, her knees and hands still throbbing. She couldn't even remember the last time she'd gotten a skinned knee or hands, maybe when she'd been six or seven?

Bucky sat her in the passenger seat and she leaned over to sigh at the sight of her stockings torn at the knees and streaked with spots of blood from where she'd scraped the skin off her knees. The show would probably expect her to pay for them. "I'm burning the whole damn outfit," she growled.

"That would be a travesty," she thought she heard Bucky say and frowned at him.

"What?"

"Nothing," he said with a grin, going around to swing into the driver's seat. He waved a set of keys at her and then proceeded to turn the car on with them.

"Where'd you get those?" she asked in suspicion. They'd been driven to the photoshoot by one of the production crew.

Bucky shrugged. "Around." He gave her a raised eyebrow. "Back to camp?"

"Yes," Stephanie said with passion, "please."

He laughed. "Your wish is my command, Lady Liberty."

"That's Captain," Stephanie said, fighting a smile as he pulled the car around. Behind them she thought she heard a shout but ignored it.

There were other cars. They could all still get home. She, in the meantime, was getting out of these damn shoes before they killed her.

***

"Don't worry about me," Tony told her later that evening, as he loaded his bags into the back of the Jeep he'd be driving to the docks to board the ship that would take him and the girls back to the States. "I tend to land on my feet."

Stephanie pulled herself up to sit on the hood of the car, her legs dangling over the side. She'd changed back into her civilian clothing, which included pants and sensible shoes she'd never been more grateful for. She'd stopped by the Medical Tent to get her hands and knees cleaned and the serum already had the minor cuts and abrasions well on their way to healing. "Your very flat feet?"

He laughed. "Those would be the ones." He reached in a back pocket and pulled out a square of paper, holding it up. "Besides, I've got a personal recommendation from the nation's new hero saying what a help I was to her in the show."

Stephanie shrugged. It was the least she could do, considering Tony couldn't tell anyone he'd been Captain America. As far as the world was concerned the Captain, and all his fame and notoriety, had died and been buried. Tony was just some guy who'd worked on putting the show together and taking it apart again after. He had the money he'd made but couldn't use a single connection he'd made from the show or any of the fame. Stephanie had written the letter and had also spoken to Phillips who, surprisingly, had agreed to try and help Tony get a good job once he was back home. Stephanie had every intention to keep up on it and make sure it actually happened. Tony deserved the best and she was going to make sure he got it.

Tony finished adjusting his bags and came to lean against the car door, facing her.

"You think the new poster will replace the old one in popularity" she asked, trying to lighten the situation.

Tony snorted. "Doubtful, unless they'd put you in the outfit they had you in for the movie."

Stephanie scowled, her spirits deflating. "No wonder Hodge--"

"Don't finish that sentence," Tony cut in sharply. "It isn't true and you know it."

"I know," Stephane relented. She smiled in apology. "Sorry, I let it get to me for a moment."  

Tony pushed off the Jeep and reached up to put his hands on her waist and help lift her down from the hood. Once her feet touched the ground he wrapped both arms around her in a bear hug.  

"You be careful," he said shortly. "And tell that idiot of yours if anything happens to you I'm holding him responsible."

Stephanie hugged him back, feeling her eyes starting to burn again. "You better write." She pulled away and Tony got in the Jeep.

"I will. You better stay safe."

"I'll do my best," Stephanie said.

He nodded. "Good." He frowned and hesitated before saying, "and do me another favor. Tell that guy of yours how you really feel, would you? Watching the two of you dance around each other like skittish kittens is painful, Sweetheart."

Stephanie's eyes went wide and she glanced around to make sure no one was close enough to be listening. She wrapped her arms around her chest and stepped forward, close to him, dropping her voice to a hiss. "You need to stop saying that, it isn't true!"

He looked amused. "You sure about that, Sweetheart?"

"I--" Stephanie dug her fingers into her arms and looked down at her feet. "How would I even know," she mumbled, "and even if I did what --- and I mean, what if -- and then--" she made a sound of pure frustration and looked back up at him. "Why did you have to _say that_?" Her voice wavered just a fraction and she clenched her jaw. "Things were _fine_ ," she said shakily, "just fine."

"No," Tony said, his voice compassionate, "they were static is what they were and that wasn't doing anything for either one of you." He sighed. "You ain't ever been in love before, have you, Sweetheart?"

Stephanie looked away from him and shrugged. "No."

"All right," Tony said. "You got yourself any female friends? Like that agent lady, Carter or whatever. You two seem to be friends. Are you?"

Stephanie nodded. "Yeah, why?"

"Just trust me on this," Tony said. "Talk to her about Barnes, all right? She seems to have a good head on her shoulders." He frowned, "aside from her judgment on helping you jump out of planes behind enemy lines but, other than that, she seems solid. Talk to her."

"Why?" Stephanie asked.

Tony started to answer only to look behind her at something. "Just trust me on it, all right? I've never steered you wrong before have I?"

"No," Stephanie agreed. "You haven't."

Arms slid around her shoulders from behind and she heard Bucky's voice by her ear as he said, "See you later, Tony."

"You too, Sergeant," Tony said gamely. "You two look after each other."

"We always do," Bucky said casually.

Tony chuckled, waved and then was pulling away in a cloud of dust.

Stephanie grabbed Bucky's arms with one hand and raised the other to wave, fighting back tears as the Jeep grew smaller in the distance.

"You're really going to miss him," Bucky said from behind her.

"He was my friend when I desperately needed one," Stephanie said. She twisted around in his arms and he dropped them to rest his hands on her hips. "And he's right. I'm greedy. I want everything. I want to keep all my friends around and get to do what I've always dreamed of doing."

"Was it worth it?" Bucky asked. "Everything you gave up in return for what you've gained?"

"I got you back, didn't I?" Stephanie asked in return. "I'd say that was damn well worth it all right there."

She wrapped her arms around his waist, an action she'd done a thousand times throughout her life but, for the first time, it suddenly hit home that she wasn't just hugging Bucky, her childhood friend and companion. She was hugging James Buchanan Barnes, an adult, single, male, in the middle of camp. She caught sight of several soldiers walking past them and, her face suddenly going red hot, she started to back away, only to have him tighten his grip on her hips and pull her back, raising an eyebrow in question.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." She'd moved her hands to his arms without thinking about it and studied them where they were gripping the stiff fabric of his uniform jacket, the outline of his biceps prominent underneath. A man. James Buchanan Barnes. She knew how she felt about Bucky, there was no question in her mind.

 

But how she felt about James?

 

How _did_ she feel about him?

 

"Just something Tony said," she said slowly, her eyes still focused on his arms.

"What did he say?" Bucky asked.

Stephanie shook her head, knowing there was no way she was going to figure out whatever the hell she was feeling in the next two seconds. Part of her was annoyed at Tony for saying what he'd did and opening a door she hadn't even realized was there. Another part of her...wasn't even sure what door he'd opened or what lay beyond it. And if it _was_ what Tony said...then what? Maybe it was true about her, maybe it wasn't and the same held true about Bucky. The way he treated her...people _didn't_ understand. They were just so _close_ , always had been and trying to shove Bucky into a particular box based on the sorts of relationships people were used to instead of the relationship she and Bucky _had_ , meant they could be dead, _dead_ wrong about him. And if they were and she started feeling something that would never be reciprocated or, worse, that she idiotically confessed and it got her rejected...it could absolutely ruin _everything_.

"Nothing," she repeated. She let out a huff and looked up at him with a grin she was sure he didn't buy. "Nothing at all." She changed the subject, knowing in advance he wouldn't call her on it. "Phillips said his division is being called back to London. I'm supposed to go too, more debriefing and then probably trying to figure out what to do with me." She hesitated. "You're coming too, right?"

He gave her a look that suggested he was questioning her intelligence. "Hell, yeah, I'm coming. I let you go alone and you're liable to let scientists start experimenting on you again."

Stephanie rolled her eyes. "It was one time."

"One time to many," Bucky retorted. "Clearly, leaving you to your own devices is just asking for trouble."

"Well, in that case," Stephanie said, holding her arm out, "I'd say you and I better get a move on to London."

Bucky snorted and linked his own arm through hers, the two of them turning toward where Phillips was having the trucks loaded on the other side of camp. "To London then, Mrs. Barnes."

Stephanie raised an eyebrow. "Mrs. Barnes? Why can't you be Mr. Rogers?"

"Because my nickname is Bucky, or Buck, and I'd be Buck Rogers," Bucky said sensibly.

"You make a good point," Stephanie said. "People would be expecting you to shoot off into the future and leave us all behind."

"Not all of you," Bucky said with a smirk. "If I'm going to the future you're damn well going with me."

Stephanie laughed. "I'm not sure that's how the story goes, Buck."

He shrugged. "It's how my story goes."

Stephanie shook her head and didn't argue. Instead she grabbed his arm with her free hand and pulled in close enough to rest her head on his shoulder. It made of a very awkward walking position but she managed it.

Her mind returned to her earlier struggle and her good humor faded just a bit. Tony was absolutely right on one thing, she conceded. She really needed to talk to another woman about...whatever this was, or wasn't. As Peggy was the only other woman in the vicinity that meant Stephanie needed to talk to her.

She just desperately hoped the other woman would have some answers, because Stephanie knew she didn't have a single one.

 

 


	17. Chapter 17

They took a train from the front lines into London. It arrived specifically for the SSR and carried only soldiers and related personnel and supplies back. There were no private compartments but it was still nicer than anything Stephanie had ever been on. The benches were in sets of two facing one another with tables placed between them to allow for books or other things. Everything was paneled in wood, the floors were carpeted and the dining car had amazing food, made even better after having been confined to rations since coming over.

The view outside the window was peaceful, for the most part. There were fields that had been destroyed by armies marching over them, the grass broken and torn with deep ruts from tanks and vehicles. Other areas showed signs of hasty retreat with bandages and spent ammunition littering the landscape. Stephanie knew the signs of war would be even worse once they reached London, which was nowhere near recovered from the destruction visited upon it by German bombing raids.

Still, it wasn't _all_ death and destruction. There were areas with quiet farms yet untouched by war, calm rivers running off into the distance and even the occasional far off sight of a fox or other animal darting off as the train rattled past.

It was beautiful and, in all fairness, Stephanie should have spent her entire trip simply looking out the window. She'd even gotten her sketch pad and pencils out and spread them on the worn table in the hopes of sketching some of the landscapes as they passed.

She'd ended up barely setting pencil to page, however, before she'd found her attention drawn away from the window where it was quickly caught, and held, by the dedicated study of one Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes.

He was currently seated at the other end of the car, engaged in a card game with some of the other men. His back was to her and Stephanie found herself studying the way his hair just touched his collar, how the breadth of his shoulders stretched the material of his jacket and how every time he turned his head to talk to someone, giving her the barest hint of his profile; her heart jolted inside her. She kept finding herself wishing he'd turn around and notice her, which was ridiculous as he knew full well where she was. He'd been sitting with her, casting wistful looks toward the card game until she'd rolled her eyes and told him to go play already. He'd nearly fallen out of his seat making it over and she'd smiled in affection, watching as he reached the table and joined in...and then she'd kept watching. Eventually she gave in and began to sketch him instead of the view out the window, the pencil quickly giving shape to the man on the page before her.

"I can't decide if you're trying to communicate with him using telepathy," a familiar, accented voice said as a body dropped onto the bench across from her, "or if you're trying to kill him with your mind."

Stephanie jerked her eyes away from Bucky and slammed the sketchpad closed, her face heating in embarrassment. "I was not staring."

Peggy gave her a disbelieving look, one eyebrow carefully arched. She folded her arms on the table, her hands clasped together in front of her. "You two aren't fighting are you?"

"What?" Stephanie asked in surprise. "No, of course not."

"Then, if I might ask," Peggy said, "why _are_ you trying to bore a hole through Sergeant Barnes' skull?"

"Tony says Bucky's in love with me," Stephanie blurted and then immediately felt her eyes widen in horror. She cast a look around quickly, terrified someone might have overheard only to see everyone going about their business as usual. The car was filled with soldiers excited to be leaving the front lines so it wasn't exactly quiet. It was a wonder she and Peggy could hear one another and they were only a foot or so apart.

"Did he also mention we're at war with Germany or that the sun rises in the east and sets in the west?" Peggy asked dryly.

Stephanie gave the other woman an exasperated look that was returned calmly. Peggy was wearing her dress uniform, which looked much like the male version except some genius had decided women should always be wearing a skirt, heels and hose even in a wartime situation.

The army still refused to acknowledge Stephanie's enlistment so she wouldn't be getting one of her own, the only bright spot in that whole thing as far as she was concerned. She was still wearing her civilian clothing which consisted of trousers and sensible shoes, societal expectations be damned; or at least roundly ignored for the time being.

According to what Phillips had reported to her, the powers that be were insisting that Lady Liberty inspired the soldiers, she did not _become_ a soldier. They wanted her to stay set apart in some form or fashion, keeping the mystique and mystery around her. If she became just one of the guys she'd quickly lose her symbolic status and just be another solider.

Stephanie had no idea what that meant for her long term but _really_ hoped it didn't mean donning another idiotic costume at some point and having to parade about for the camera reels pretending to fight. She wanted to _actually_ fight and if they denied her again she was sorely tempted to simply strike out on her own and get it done. If they wanted to keep on insisting she didn't belong to the military they couldn't be upset when she refused to obey them, right?

"Bucky isn't in love with me," she said now, refocusing on the topic at hand. She leaned forward and lowered her voice as much as possible. "He isn't treating me any different than he's done before."

Peggy leaned forward as well with a frown. "You're assuming he's only been in love with you since you became Liberty? Rather a shallow view to take of him, don't you think? Perhaps you can see no difference because he's simply been in love with you a very long time."

Stephanie shook her head. "That can't be right. I was nowhere near his type before the serum and he dated other girls." She scowled, remembering the night before Bucky had shipped out. "Hell, he even set _me_ up on dates. That doesn't exactly broadcast being in love does it?"

"I can think of several reasons for why he might have done that," Peggy said, "a few of them quite obvious." At Stephanie's blank look the other woman sighed and said, "you clearly weren't in love with him until recently. Perhaps he was trying to move on. Perhaps he wanted to see you happy even if it wasn't with him or he hoped you settling down could enable him to move on. It could be any number of reasons."

"Or it could be none of the above and you're all seeing something that isn't there," Stephanie muttered. Then the rest of Peggy's words registered and she said, "wait, I wasn't _what_ until recently?"

Peggy looked exasperated. "Forget not knowing him. You don't even know yourself, do you?"

Stephanie bristled, annoyed at the suggestion she didn't know Bucky or the implication that Peggy somehow knew him better. "It isn't as if I've had a lot of experience in the romance department," she grumbled, "I wasn't exactly popular back home."

"You're making it harder than it is," Peggy said. "It's not that big a mystery. Do you find yourself always thinking about him?" She gave a wry grin as Stephanie flushed again, "or, in this case, trying to bore a hole in his head?" Stephanie rolled her eyes and the other woman smirked. "Do you find yourself wishing he'd pay as much attention to you as you do to him? Do you find your heart jumping when he's near? Do you want to see him happy?" She gave Stephanie a telling look. "Does he make _you_ happy?"

_"I just want you to be happy. That's all, Buck, just happy."_

"That's enough," Stephanie muttered, the words she'd spoken to Bucky after rescuing him still running through her head. She had her hands resting on the table and was tapping them spastically, the beat becoming harder the more Peggy spoke. Her eyes went to the back of James' head and then darted away again.

"Can you imagine your life without him?"

Stephanie looked up sharply, just as the man in question slid into the seat beside her. She felt his thigh press up against hers and then his hand was slipping under her hand where it lay on the table, interlacing their fingers in a tight grip.

Stephanie looked at him and found Bucky grinning broadly, a wild light in his eyes that he got whenever he was particularly excited about something.

"There," he said, dropping a small pile of cash and coins on the table, the sound loud in the small space. "That's what I call luck. Can you believe it?"

Stephanie studied him, the mere presence of him nearly as tangible as his physical leg where it rested against hers and his hand in hers.

A presence so real that when he wasn't with her she could feel that too, a hollowness at her side, a void of silence so thick it sometimes hurt to breathe if she focused on it for too long.

"No," Stephanie said slowly, her eyes darting away so she was looking at Peggy instead of him. "I can't."

Peggy smiled brightly.

Stephanie felt sick, her nerves going crazy inside her.

 

She was quite possibly in love.

 

With her best friend.

 

With _James._

 

A love that could ruin everything if it turned out he _didn't_ love her back. A love that, if he  _didn't_ return was going to eat at her soul.

 

Stephanie smothered a strangled laugh and turned to look out the window, resting her head on a shaking hand.

 

In love with James?

 

Was she?

 

It would be something she would do, she conceded privately. If anyone could end up in love with their best friend at the _worst_ possible time, it would be her. They were at war, both of their futures completely up in the air. She had no idea where either of them was going to end up, what they were going to end up doing. Hell, she didn't know if they'd both still be alive by the war's end, if it ended at all.

 

What was she supposed to do? Tell him? She didn't even know _how_ for heaven's sake. She didn't know how to flirt or be coy or any of the other things she'd seen girls do, often seemingly effortlessly. The producers of the show had tried to teach her, as had the other showgirls, and she'd always failed miserably. And even if she _did_ manage to figure it out enough to tell him, what then?

What if he didn't return her feelings?

 

What if he _did_?

 

What if he did and then she found out her feelings weren't love after all? At least not the love some seemed to think it was.

 

Then _what_?

 

"Hey," Bucky let go of her hand and went to wrap an arm around her. Stephanie automatically moved forward to let him fit his arm between the back of the bench and her body, and then leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder as his hand hooked around her waist. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she lied. "I just have a headache is all."

"Go head and relax then," he said. "I'll make sure you don't do anything stupid like fall over into the aisle."

Stephanie snorted. "Like I would. I'm not you."

Her eyes went across to where Peggy was studying her with concern and Stephanie felt her gut clench with anxiety.

 

Why did this have to happen _now_? Or at all?

 

Everything had been so simple before.

She loved Bucky.

He loved her.

She went out and did reckless things, usually with him backing her up, or on her own and then she would come back so he could yell at her for doing whatever it was without him.

She was just getting it together, she thought plaintively, _finally_.

Her future was just starting to possibly look bright instead of short, or locked into whatever mold society saw fit to force her into, full of possibilities instead of empty.

She'd finally started to feel like she was finding out where she fit and where her life might be heading. She was getting things on track, and now it was all completely off the rails again.

A genuine headache began to form in her temples and Stephanie closed her eyes, settling into Bucky's side. It was easier to separate him, she thought absently. Bucky, her best friend; and James the man she might possibly be in love with assuming she understood what she was feeling. It would be the only way she could ever face him again without her face catching on fire. It wasn't optimal but it was the best she could do at the moment as she tried to sort herself out.

Not so very long ago she'd been so sure of life and her place in it.

Now, she was sure of only one thing.

 

This was all _Tony's_ fault.

 

And Peggy's.

But mostly Tony's. If he had just never said anything, never put the idea in her head, never led to her talking to Peggy...things could have just...gone on, the same as they always had and she wouldn't be sitting here having to do mental gymnastics to split her best friend into two people, worrying over if what she felt for him was platonic love or something far greater, wondering what he may or may not feel for her and, in general, having no idea what the hell she was going to do about any of it.

 _Damn_ it all, Tony.

Why did he have to say anything?

When they arrived in London she was writing him a strongly worded letter, she decided.

A _very_ strongly worded letter.


	18. Chapter 18

Stephanie had little time to dwell on her newfound, very complicated, revelation as they arrived in London shortly after. The signs of the destruction visited on the city were apparent immediately, buildings reduced to rubble or heavily damaged, scorch marks and craters in the ground from exploding bombs that still hadn't been filled in.

As they pulled into the station, Stephanie could see signs that it had been repaired, repeatedly from the looks of it.

"It's a fairly regular target," Peggy said, seeing her taking notice. "We're lucky we were able to use it at all."

"Now you tell us," Bucky said dryly. "Always nice to know you spent a leisurely trip where any second a bomb could have dropped on your head."

"The risk was considered acceptable," Peggy answered, pushing to her feet as the train slid to a smooth stop. "Schmidt suffered a setback with the loss of his weapons facility. It's important we strike back quickly, before he has time to recover."

She moved off down the aisle, squeezing through the crowd of soldiers moving about as they prepared to get off.

Bucky leaned back, his hands clasped together on the table in front of him. "So," he said casually. "You ready for whatever the future holds?"

"I thought I was," Stephanie said. "Now I'm not so sure."

He grabbed her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "You'll do fine."

"I guess we'll find out," Stephanie murmured, her eyes going back to the hastily repaired destruction outside the window of the train car.

Bucky's only answer was another squeeze of her hand.

***

"The fifth one was here in Poland, right near the Baltic and the sixth one was about here, 30, 40 miles west of the Maginot Line." Stephanie finished making the final mark on the map spread out over the table and straightened to face Agent Carter, who stood on the other side. They were in the headquarters of the SSR, located under the streets of London. Not exactly what Stephanie had meant by getting to see the city, but she'd take what she could get. Particularly given the shape the city was currently in as well as the fact that sporadic bombings did still happen. Underground was the safest place to be for the time being. Peggy had already shown her the living quarters located several levels further down, small and cramped but warm and dry which meant they were a huge step up from what she'd been dealing with on the front lines. After putting her meager belongings in the room assigned to her, Stephanie had followed Peggy up to the central command area where they were currently. It was a massive room filled with tables, maps, easels filled with writing and charts and a veritable army of people rushing about in a great hurry.

Peggy straightened and indicated Stephanie should follow her to another, larger map spread out over a different table. Phillips joined them as they reached it. Markers had already been put on the map where Stephanie had said there were facilities and Phillips nodded toward them.

"These are the locations we know about. Sergeant Barnes said parts were shipped to another facility that isn't on the map."

Stephanie hid the jolt she felt at the name and felt a burst of pride at her restraint. Bucky, she told herself firmly. Bucky, Bucky, Bucky Barnes. She was not going to think about James right then. It was neither the time nor the place and she just...was going to ignore that whole thing for the time being.

Phillips moved away, motioning for them to follow yet again and Stephanie wondered why things couldn't be a little more centralized in the giant room. As they walked, Phillips spoke to Peggy, telling her to coordinate with MI6 and other allied forces to try and locate the final Hydra base.

Stephanie took a deep breath, gathered up her courage, and asked, "What about me?"

She knew they still wanted her in propaganda pieces and had heard that a film crew would be following her around, much as they had done during her shows, taking more pictures and doing film to show in the theaters back home. That was all well and good but it better not be all they had planned for her. Stephanie was done being a glorified showgirl or a propaganda piece or a symbol and she sure as hell had no intention of sitting around if they planned to send Bucky back out. She let him out of her sight for a few months and he'd gone and gotten captured by Hydra. The image of that poor woman from the train station passed through her mind and Stephanie gave a quick shake of her head as if she could physically dispel the image. She wasn't going to be that. Not now and not ever. Just...no.

Phillips spun to face her and Stephanie pulled up short, her heart rate increasing as he opened his mouth to speak. He paused as a young blonde woman came over to hand him a file and Stephanie resisted the urge to scream as her answer was delayed that extra few moments. She hadn't seen any other women outside of Peggy so far and gave a slight smile to the other woman as she turned away. She got an assessing one in return, followed by a smirk Stephanie couldn't begin to decipher before the other blonde turned on one heel and walked away, swinging her hips in a way that made Stephanie wonder how they didn't outright dislocate.  

"The Strategic Scientific Reserve," Phillips said, catching her attention, "is going to light a fire under Johann Schmidt's ass, and by the SSR, I mean you," here he pointed at her and Stephanie barely, _barely_ resisted the urge to shriek in excitement. They were going to let her fight. They were actually, honestly, _truly_ going to let her _fight_. No more having to sneak around or fight for her place. She was going to go out and make a difference. She clasped her hands together, the smile on her face so broad it hurt. She cast a look at Peggy and saw the other woman smiling back at her.  

Phillips wasn't looking at her, his eyes scanning the folder he held. "Between missions you'll be here putting on a good show for the camera, make sure everyone at home knows how well the war is going." He lifted his head finally, frowning at what must have been the outright goofy grin still plastered on her face. "What do you say, Rogers?" He asked, looking as if he was second guessing his decision already. "It's your map. You think you can wipe Hydra off it?"

"Yes, sir." Stephanie said instantly, only to flinch at the fear she'd come off sounding to cocky or outright arrogant. She thought of the five bases, each one undoubtedly loaded to the teeth with soldiers and weapons. She'd have the benefit of surprise for the first, assuming they didn't realize she'd seen the map, but only for that first one. After that she'd be facing four more facilities filled with soldiers and weapons, all waiting for her. She hesitated. "I'll need a team," she said finally," her voice almost timid. The only reason she was being let out was because she was a super solider who'd taken on a weapons facility and won. The problem was she'd only won because she'd had a near army at her back. If she wanted to repeat she was going to need help but was afraid asking for it would make her look weak and cause Phillips to question her ability to do the job at all.

Phillips studied her and she clenched her jaw, afraid simultaneously that she'd somehow managed to come off as cocky and insecure at exactly the same moment, a great combination no doubt, she thought bitterly and with more than a hint of self-deprecation.

"We're already putting together the best men," Phillips said, his tone suggesting clearly that he saw the men he was choosing as a bolster for her rather than support. If he had his way, Stephanie thought with sudden clarity, she'd be little more than a figurehead, ignored and shoved to the side while the men he'd chosen did all the real work.

She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. She saw Peggy watching her, a look of reassurance in her eyes, and Stephanie took a deep breath, clenching her hands and lifting her chin.

"Actually, sir," she said, trying to sound more confident than she felt, "I've already got my own ideas on that."

***

"So let's get this straight," Dum Dum said, setting his beer down. "We barely got out of there alive, and you want us to go back?"

"Pretty much," Stephanie agreed. She'd tracked Dum Dum down to a nearby pub where he, and some of the others Phillips had brought along for further debriefing, had gone to relax. Currently it was filled with the men from the train who'd just returned from the front lines. Every table was full, the chatter of voices loud and the jukebox blaring out a cheerful tune. A number of women from the city had come in and were dancing with some of the men while the rest were gathered around tables drinking or playing cards.

Stephanie had been relieved to see the men she wanted almost as soon as she'd entered, all seated together at a table back near the bar. They were the only former prisoners brought back and had formed a tight bond borne of shared experience.

Stephanie had been more than a little nervous to speak to them. Yes, they had followed her during the rescue but they hadn't had much choice and there had been others giving orders as well. They'd been grateful and treated her with respect but that was a far, far cry from meaning they would agree to follow her or obey her as a commanding officer, particularly when the Army refused to acknowledge she belonged to them at all, let alone give her any sort of legitimate rank. She was still Lady Liberty. No one was going to follow her unless they chose to and asking a group of men to obey the orders of a woman with little to no training who held no rank and would be spending most of her downtime prancing about in a to short skirt and heels?

It was asking a lot.

A _lot._

Even so, she had no doubt they would be a better bet than anyone Phillips would pick. These men at least knew her to an extent and had seen her fight. If anyone might be willing to follow her, aside from Bucky of course, and actually obey her and show her the respect of a leader, it would be these men.

Now she watched nervously, her hands clasped together on the tabletop in front of her, the whites of her knuckles the only outward sign that she was at all nervous. Absently she crossed her legs at the ankles only to almost immediately uncross them and then do it again the other way. She'd debated endlessly on what to wear to speak to them before finally settling on an emerald green dress, one of the few splurges with her Lady Liberty paychecks; and comfortable flats. She didn't like heels but that didn't mean she didn't like dressing up from time to time and looking nice. Part of her had thought she should wear pants to talk to the men but she'd ultimately rejected it. It wouldn't change her sex and shouldn't change how they viewed her. _She_ deserved respect, regardless of what clothing she was wearing. She wanted them to follow her but she wanted it because they respected and trusted _her_ , not because of something stupid like whether or not she was wearing a skirt or trousers. A woman shouldn't have to dress like a man to have authority. She should have it because she'd earned it like anybody else, regardless of what she did or did not wear.

The men were still staring at her and Stephanie felt her stomach twist. She put on a smile she hoped wasn't too nervous or awkward and clenched her hands tighter on the table. She had jumped out of an airplane behind enemy lines into anti-aircraft fire, she reminded herself. She'd snuck into a Hydra weapons facility and helped liberate several hundred soldiers and also aided in taking down the facility. She'd brought back valuable intel and successfully convinced a man like Phillips that she deserved a chance to fight.

She knew her own worth, even if these men ended up failing to see it and she _would_ be all right if they rejected her.

At least she'd still have Bucky. If all else failed, the two of them could always go kick Hydra's ass together. It'd be just like old times...if old times had involved her apparently being in love with him and the bullies having guns and tanks instead of fists.

So, sort of like old times then.  

"Sounds rather fun, actually," one of the men, a British officer named James Montgomery Falsworth, said. Next to him another man, Jim Morita, nodded in agreement.

Stephanie let out a sound that was a half breath of relief and a half laugh, her shoulders sagging fractionally. She turned her attention to the other men at the table, her spirits hopeful. Jacques Derner and Gabe Jones didn't hesitate to agree, laughing and shaking hands with one another as they joined.

Stephanie couldn't help a smile as she focused on the final man at the table, Dum Dum. She really liked him. He'd been one of the first she'd spoken to during the rescue and he'd never treated her as anything less than a fellow soldier.

"Hell, I'll always fight," he said casually, "but you got to do one thing for me."

"What's that?" Stephanie asked.

Dum Dum finished off his beer and slammed it back down on the table. "Open a tab."

Stephanie laughed and forced herself to get up in a mature and professional manner. Hugging them all would probably not go very far in proving herself. Her legs felt weak from relief but she managed to stand without falling over, another bonus.

"Off to go find that Sergeant of yours?" Dum Dum asked.

"Sergeant Pretty Boy?" Falsworth asked. "He going to be the team mascot is he?"

Stephanie felt her face heat in embarrassment. "He's not my Sergeant," she stammered, waving her hands frantically, "and he isn't going to be the team's mascot." She was actually hoping Bucky would be the team sniper. According to the files she'd been given on the men she'd requested, he was a crack shot.

"You sure?" Dum Dum asked, amused. "Cheers on the team, keeps us supplied with bullets and beer, back out of the action but still useful."

"Perks of being a kept man," Gabe broke in sagely and Stephanie gave him a betrayed look, having incorrectly pegged him as the rational one of the group.

"Drink your beers," she said, waving her hands in dismissal and turning away before they figured out more to say and she melted from sheer mortification.

She stopped at the bar to order them a round, hearing them laugh behind her. Shaking her head again she walked past the table, making sure to _not_ look at them as she passed, and made her way into another part of the building.

There was a second, smaller bar in there where Bucky was seated, his back to the wood watching her through the door as she approached. She'd been sitting with him earlier, watching Dum Dum and the others before she'd finally screwed up enough courage to go talk to them. Bucky had offered to go with her but she'd refused, knowing there was no way they would ever have faith in her leadership if she couldn't even speak to them without needing someone to figuratively hold her hand.

"I told you," he said, spinning to face the bar as she walked behind him, absently tracing her fingers along his back as she took the seat on his other side. "They're all idiots."

Stephanie tapped her fingers on the bar and smiled in thanks as Bucky pushed a second drink he'd had near his hand, over to her. "What about you?" she asked, keeping her eyes on the drink. "You ready to follow Lady Liberty into the jaws of death?" She already knew the answer but still wanted to hear him say it. Wanted to hear him say he wanted to be with her as much as she wanted to be with him.

_He's head over heels for you._

Stephanie kept her smile on her face as she lifted her eyes to gaze into his. The longer she stayed near him the surer she was of her newfound feelings.

She _was_ in love with him, to so great an extent she had to clench her teeth until her jaw hurt to keep the words from spilling out on their own to him.

 He snorted, lifting the glass up with a few fingers to take a gulp from it. "Hell no. That little girl from Brooklyn I've been pulling from the jaws of death since she was old enough to walk? I'm following her." He gave her an affectionate look and raised his glass. "Mainly because I'm pretty sure you're going to be upping your game with the whole jaws of death thing."

"I think I've pulled you out of the jaws of death at least once or twice now," Stephanie said with amusement and he nodded.

"Fair enough." He looked over his shoulder and asked. "You keeping the outfit?"

Stephanie followed his gaze and saw one of her Lady Liberty posters plastered on the wall. Thankfully it was one of the ones advertising the tour so she was standing at attention next to Tony. A big cancelled banner was stuck across it.

"No choice," she said with a sigh. "It's a tradeoff. I get to fight but, in return, I have to put on a good show as Lady Liberty in the camps, continuing my quest to find justice for Captain America and all that."

He raised an eyebrow. "They expect people to believe you're fighting Hydra in a skirt, tights and heels?"

Stephanie shrugged. "I don't think they'll care very much." She grinned and, unable to resist, leaned toward him until he returned the gesture, bringing their heads close enough to each other to practically touch. "What? You don't think I could fight Hydra in a skirt?"

"You'd definitely get their attention," he answered, his voice oddly husky in a way she'd never heard from him before.

He pulled away from her, looking over the bar and Stephanie focused on her drink in her hands again, knowing full well her face was bright red yet again.  

_He's head over heels for you._

He wasn't, Stephanie told herself, firmly. Just because she might be falling...might _have_ fallen for him didn't mean he'd magically fallen for her in return. The world didn't work like that. If she said something...she suppressed a shudder at how awful _that_ conversation could be. Him rejecting her and then, suddenly, everything was awkward.

She took a sip of her drink, the liquid rushing through her and bemoaned the fact she couldn't get drunk anymore. If she could, she could just confess to him and then if...when...if he rejected her she could just pass it off as drunken ramblings.

The atmosphere in the other room changed and Stephanie frowned, leaning back to look out. She caught sight of Peggy, dressed to the nines in a way that instantly made Stephanie feel frumpy, making her way through the room.

Stephanie stood up as the other woman approached and Bucky did the same next to her. Peggy was carrying a large envelope, Stephanie noted, that she sat down on the bar top before facing the two of them.

"There you are," Peggy said. "Howard wanted me to pass on a message. He'd like to see you in his lab tomorrow morning."

"Howard?" Bucky asked. "Who's Howard?"

"Howard Stark," Stephanie said. "You remember, the guy with the flying cars from the festival?"

Bucky's eyes lit up. "Really? He's here? Can I go with you to meet him?"

Peggy laughed. "I'm sure he wouldn't mind meeting a fan." She reached out and picked the envelope up. "I have the photos back from your shoot. Would you like to see them?"

"Of course." Stephanie took the envelope and pulled the photos out. Of all the different poses and emotions they'd had her do for the shoot they had ended up going with only two. The first had her with her head up gazing into the distance, her face set and stoic even as tears tracked down it. The other had her with her head down toward where she gripped the shield in both hands, wind tossing her hair about her face and leaving it hidden. That one was in black and white leaving her shadowed and she could see they'd done something to the photo to make it fuzzy almost, giving it a strange, otherworldly feel.

In both, Bucky was stationed prominently at the head of the grave, next to the cross, his arm up in a crisp salute. She handed one of the photos over to him, letting him see it while she looked at the other.

"I hear there were quite a few inquiries about the identity of the mystery soldier at the head of the grave," Peggy said mildly. "I think the producers expected him to be overlooked in favor of you but, apparently, Lady Liberty has quite the female following as well."

Stephanie frowned, disquiet. "What did the producers say?"

"Do you have to ask?" Peggy said dryly. "They refused to name him but apparently implied he might be seen again." She gave Bucky an amused grin. "You may have just found yourself a second job, Sergeant."

Bucky snorted. "I don't care, as long as Steph is okay with it. I wouldn't want to step on anybody's toes."

"I don't mind," Stephanie said quickly. It was fine, she told herself firmly. She doubted there would be many photos or film reels anyway, they'd be far too busy fighting Hydra. Not to mention it wasn't like they'd be going to functions or parties like she'd done during her stage time. So what if Bucky had a few female fans? It was _fine_.

Peggy frowned, glancing between Stephanie and Bucky and then, to Stephanie's total shock, the other woman suddenly turned to Bucky and said, "I don't suppose you'd fancy a dance, would you Sergeant?"

Bucky looked startled. He glanced at Stephanie with a frown. "Steph?"

"Why are you asking me?" Stephanie said, her voice only slightly strangled. She crossed her arms over her chest and put what was probably a tight smile on her face. "Do whatever you want."

Bucky looked uncertain but Peggy, with an exasperated look at Stephanie, proceeded to grab his arm and practically drag him out onto the dance floor. The music was upbeat and the two settled into a lively dance.

Bucky was a superb dancer. Being as broke as they both were back home, there had been little to do aside from dancing, which was both fun and free. There had been a local dance hall near where they lived and they had both spent hours there learning all the popular dances, mainly from watching but also from free lessons given by those more proficient who had claimed she and Buck had natural talent that shouldn't be allowed to go to waste simply from a lack of money for lessons.

Peggy, Stephanie could see at once, was nowhere near the same level that Bucky was. It made sense, the woman was probably more concerned with assuring the safety of the free world than she was with learning proper footwork. As she watched, Stephanie could see Bucky was deliberately holding back, not really doing any proper dance so much as simply moving to the music in a way similar to how Peggy was moving.

Stephanie settled halfway back on her stool again, one hand clutching her drink hard enough to nearly crack the glass. Unconsciously, her foot and free hand both began to tap to the music as she watched the two dance.

"You know," a voice said conversationally, almost in her ear. "You really should just go claim him. I'm no expert but I'm fairly sure telepathy is just science fiction."

Stephanie jumped and frowned at Dum Dum, wondering how he'd managed to walk right up to her without her noticing. "I can't just walk out there and cut in," she said, her voice shorter than she'd intended.

"Why not?" he asked. "It ain't hard. You want him, go out and get him."

Stephanie flushed. "Would you like to dance, Dum Dum?" That way she'd at least get out on the floor and then maybe Bucky would see and cut in? Maybe.

"I'd love to," the man responded with a carefree grin, "but I ain't keen on Barnes killing me in my sleep. He's a bit less forgiving than you are."

"He's not going to kill you--" Stephanie started to say, only to cut off as Dum Dum gently grabbed her arm and helped her to her feet, reaching past her to remove her glass from her hand and set it on the counter.

"Go on," he said, giving her an equally gentle nudge toward the dance floor. "Stop making excuses and go get your guy."

Stephanie glared at him but then smoothed down her skirt and carefully made her way out onto the dance floor, winding around bodies of other dancers and trying to pretend she wasn't about to pass out from nerves.

Come on, she told herself firmly. You punched Schmidt in the face. You can do this.

She reached the pair and, before she could think enough to talk herself out of it, tapped Bucky on the shoulder. "Can I cut in?"

Bucky...James...Bucky...whatever...looked delighted while Peggy shot what could only be called a look of triumph over to where Dum Dum was still standing on the edge of the dance floor. Stephanie started to look over suspiciously as Peggy walked off only to be distracted by Bucky sliding an arm around her waist and pulling her up against him. He was wearing his dress uniform again and Stephanie clutched his sleeves in surprise, slightly off balance from being so close to him.  

"You ready to show them how it's done?" he asked.

Stephanie hesitated. "I haven't danced since the serum."

"Well, let's see if you still have it then," Bucky challenged.

He listened to the music for a moment, catching the beat. "The Balboa?"

"Really?" Stephanie said in surprise. "You want to start with that one?" She cast a look around the floor. "No one else is doing it."

Bucky shrugged. "Like I said, let's show them how it's done."

Stephanie sighed but gave in. As she'd worried it took a few seconds to get back into it. She hadn't danced in a long time outside of the one-time back in camp with Bucky where he'd still been recovering. Her body also moved quite differently now than it had the last time she'd truly danced, back when she'd been weaker and sick all the time.

Still, it came back quickly and it wasn't long before her feet were going as fast as Bucky's, the two of them moving in an easy, quick rhythm borne from long practice and familiarity. The two of them twirled easily around one another, coming in close and then moving out again. At one point he spun her out only to then spin her back in and slide an arm around her waist. She put her arm around him, digging her fingers into the back of his jacket. Her other hand she kept clutching in his, their arms extended a bit as they continued to move in the rapid pace the dance required. Stephanie laughed, a genuine smile stretching across her face. She'd forgotten how much she enjoyed dancing and, particularly, how much she liked dancing with Bucky.

Without thinking, she turned her head to smile at him, and found her face a mere inch or so away from his as he turned at the same moment. A spark of pure electricity raced through her and she sucked in a sharp breath, her eyes dropping almost of their own will to his lips.

Damn it all, trying to separate him was never going to work.  

She pulled away from him and he spun her outward again. He must have been paying closer attention to the music than she had because, in a move so perfect it might as well have been choreographed, he spun her back in, wrapped an arm around her waist and titled her back in a partial dip. Stephanie responded on instinct, one arm grabbing his bicep, the other going around his neck and her leg sliding out to help him dip her back. The song ended and they were staring into one another's eyes again, both of them breathing heavily from the exertion of the dance...and Stephanie privately admitted to herself what she'd been steadily ignoring since the train.

She was quite well and truly lost.

James Barnes.

Bucky Barnes.

James Buchanan Barnes.

Sergeant Barnes.

It didn't matter the name he went by, the name she chose to call him by or how hard she tried to separate him into another person to try and make it easier to accept.

She was head over heels in love with her best friend, and that was all there was to it.

All there was, and, given the strength of the emotions she currently felt flowing through her, all there ever would be.

Damn.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit goes to Once Upon a Time for the "women don't need to be dressed as men to give them authority" quote. Emma Swan says it to Sheriff Graham somewhere in Season 1.   
> Also, here's a video if you want to see the dance Bucky and Stephanie were doing. I see them as the couple that comes in at about the 3:20 mark, she's got on a blue dress and he has a blue shirt on. If you watch at the end when all the couples come back onto the floor and end the song you can see he dips her just as the song ends, that's the same way Bucky dipped Stephanie.   
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pV7KyUaAWUQ


	19. Chapter 19

Stephanie was in an unpleasant mood. She'd slept poorly and had awakened to a sore back and a crick in her neck that refused to go away. Then, to make matters worse, she'd gone to the mess hall, located below the living quarters where she was deep enough she felt like a mole person, only to find Bucky wasn't there.

She would have looked like an idiot standing around waiting for him and she couldn't go get him because, going by the rumors she'd been hearing of late, it wouldn't do much for Lady Liberty's reputation. Granted, Bucky was married to _her_ so it wasn't like she was actually carrying on an affair with a married man as the rumors claimed but no one knew that and perception was often far more important than the truth.

So now she was on her way to see Stark sans Bucky, her best friend, who she'd promised could come with her to meet Howard and she was being kept away from going and waking him up -- _her_ best friend, who she'd known her entire life -- thanks to salacious rumors being spread about the two of them by people neither of them even knew.

Well, _Bucky_ didn't know. Stephanie didn't have a doubt in her mind who the source of the rumors was and it was taking everything she had not to go hunt down Hodge and throw him through a damn wall. She got it; he was disappointed in not being selected for Erskine's program; he didn't think she deserved it, and on and on and on but, really, at _some_ point she would have thought he'd grow the hell up and get over it.

Clearly, she'd been putting far too much faith in the man.

What was worse was that her real source of anger wasn't even Hodge being true to form or the fact that idiotic rumors were being spread. What annoyed her was the simple fact that Bucky, in some way shape or form, was off limits to her. She couldn't go see him when she wanted and _that_ was _eating_ at her. It made her think of things she would rather ignore, like the notion of Bucky someday being married and not to her but to someone else and _that_ woman being the one who got to see him whenever she wanted and got to go with him wherever he went and got to do all the things _she_ had always done but wouldn't be able to do any longer. She'd be left behind in the shadows, a best friend from childhood he talked to on occasion, maybe sent a Christmas or birthday card to sporadically, when he remembered.

Thinking about it made her feel physically ill.

She understood that, logically, she wasn't being _entirely_ rational. They were in the middle of a war about to take on Hydra, it was highly unlikely Bucky was spending his time thinking about marriage.

Not to mention there weren't all that many women around _for_ him to think about anyway. That thought recalled the nurse from back in camp and Stephanie felt her scowl deepen. At least that woman had been left behind when they had set off for London and Stephanie didn't have to worry about some other woman making eyes at her _husband_ who very clearly had his ring on.

Not that he belonged to her of course, and therein lay the entire problem. Bucky wasn't _hers._ He wore a ring that symbolized he was and there was a wedding certificate that said the same but none of it was _real_ and no matter what Peggy or Tony or anyone else said there had been no promises between them. There might not be a lot of women around now but one day there would be. He'd been very popular back in New York, a fact that had never bothered her before, but which bothered the hell out of her now.

Suddenly the thought of locking him in her closet again like she'd done when she was six didn't seem like quite so unreasonable an idea.  

She reached the elevator and got in, the door sliding shut behind her and leaving her blessedly alone for a few moments. Stephanie leaned against the back wall, her arms crossed and tried to get herself into a more composed mood, or at least the appearance of one. She couldn't afford to give anyone the idea that she was anything less than perfectly in control. There were enough people already who wanted her gone, the very last thing she needed was to give them ammunition.

By the time the car stopped she was feeling more relaxed and stepped off the car into the main command room feeling calmer and more collected. She walked easily across the large room toward the back where Howard's lab was located. Several people nodded to her or greeted her and she returned it, a sense of pride growing as she was able to keep herself together and composed.

The feeling continued right up until she rounded a corner and spotted the blonde woman from the day before seated at a desk reading a paper. Stephanie dimly recalled her being referred to as Private Lorraine at some point the day before though she wasn't sure if that was the woman's first or last name. She took a deep breath and approached the desk, putting on a smile that Bucky would have seen through instantly.  

"Excuse me. I'm looking for Mr. Stark."

"He's in with Colonel Phillips," Lorraine said dismissively, not even bothering to look up from her paper.

Stephanie bristled at the rude behavior but simply nodded and put her arms behind her back, going into an at ease position. The military might be ignoring her enlistment but she'd found it got her more respect to follow their protocols regardless.

As she stood there she, again, found her mind wandering to Bucky and she mentally chided herself. She was being ridiculous and more than a little obsessive. She'd been with him her entire life and never had a problem until she'd gone and fallen in love and now not only could she not seem to get him out of her thoughts for two seconds but she was convinced some random woman would appear out of nowhere and take him from her any moment.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Lorraine glance at her, only to do a double take.

"Of course you're welcome to wait," the woman said, her face transforming into a smile.

No kidding, Stephanie thought irritably, wondering at the woman's sudden change. Spotting a table, she walked over and leaned against it, clasping her hands in her lap and crossing her legs at the ankle.

Lorraine flipped the paper she was holding around to reveal the giant headline talking about the rescue of the prisoners from the Hydra weapons facility. "I read about what you did."

"Oh, yeah, that," Stephanie said, embarrassed. She forcibly pulled her mind away from obsessing about one James Buchanan Barnes and put on a fake smile, ready to hear all about how amazing the whole thing had been. She'd been given a lot of praise back at the camp and it had been repeating since she'd arrived here, much to her embarrassment.

"Sergeant Barnes was one of the men you rescued," Lorraine said, looking down and trailing a hand along the top of her desk, "wasn't he?"

Stephanie twitched. Her hands, holding the edges of the table, tightened until she heard the wood start to crack under her fingers. "He was," she answered through gritted teeth.

"I met him the other day." Lorraine stood up and walked closer, lowering her voice. "He is...rather striking, isn't he?"

"He's also married," Stephanie said, her voice flat.

Lorraine made a dismissive gesture. "Oh, I've heard all about that." She leaned forward and lowered her voice even more in a conspiratorial tone. "The word is his wife died and he wears the ring as a tribute to her. That's why he never mentions her and why no one has ever seen him write her or try to call her."

The word was _what_? Stephanie had no idea where anyone had gotten _that_ idea. Just how many damn rumors were floating around?

Lorraine straightened, looking smug. "I bet I could get him to forget her. What do you think?"

Stephanie swallowed, an acrid taste in her mouth. Lorraine had blonde hair and blue eyes like she did but with the added benefit of a movie star quality and an outright sultriness Stephanie couldn't pull off in a million years. Stephanie knew the serum had enhanced her looks but, next to Lorraine, she felt downright frumpy again, as invisible as she'd been before the procedure. If Bucky were going to go for any woman, it'd be this one. The thought brought back the sick feeling to her stomach and Stephanie felt as if she'd swallowed a rock, the weight heavy in her gut.

She opened her mouth, not even sure what she was going to say, only to have Lorraine look to the side, go wide eyed and hastily shush her. "He's coming!" She shot a sickly-sweet smile at Stephanie. "You must have talked to him on the way back. Introduce us!"

She darted back to her desk and Stephanie turned to see Bucky, wearing a long, blue overcoat she'd never seen before, heading toward her.

With a sudden burst of defiance at the world in general, Stephanie pushed off the desk, planting herself directly in Bucky's path as he approached and conveniently blocking his line of sight to Lorraine. "Is that a new coat?"

He grabbed the edges and held it out. "It is. What do you think?"

Stephanie grabbed the edges, tugging them out of his hands and opened the overcoat wider, examining not just it but the man underneath. Bucky was wearing his dress uniform again. He'd begun wearing it almost non-stop and she couldn't say she minded.

"Very nice," she said, her eyes not at all on the coat. She looked up to meet his eyes and felt herself flush in embarrassment. Rather than step away, however, she pulled the overcoat closed and used the action to draw in closer toward him, because she could and other irritating people couldn't.

Bucky grinned brightly. "I saw the map. Hydra wasn't kind enough to place their facilities anywhere warm."

"Bastards," Stephanie said in amusement. She was standing close enough to physically feel his presence like an energy current just in front of her.

"Language," Bucky retorted, amused and Stephanie smiled at him. She let go finally and reached into her jacket to pull out a letter she'd written to Tony the night before.

Her strongly worded letter. Not _to_ strongly because she didn't want to hurt Tony's feelings after all but, really, this was _all_ his fault. If he'd just kept his opinion to himself she never would have realized how she felt about Bucky and her life would have been far, _far_ less complicated for it. Granted her life would have also been lonelier and potentially emptier and missing a chunk she wouldn't even have been able to identify once Bucky had gone because of course he _would_ have gone...and might still go...because the fact she was in love with him didn't make him in love with her...and her heart would be every bit as broken as if she'd never understood her own emotions in the first place...

It was all Tony's fault, every bit of it...

Bucky was frowning at her in concern. Before he could say anything, Stephanie put on her patented Lady Liberty smile and whirled to face stupid, should-have-been-a-movie-star-and-not-joined-the-SSR Lorraine.

"I need to mail this. Do you know where I can take it?"

Lorraine held out her hand. "I can do it for you."

Stephanie handed it over and, as she did, saw Lorraine shooting looks from her to Bucky, jerking her head and clearly gunning for her introduction.

Really? The woman _still_ wasn't giving up? Stephanie felt a flash of irritation. She spun back to face Bucky and noticed offhandedly that his tie was crooked so she reached up to grab the knot to fix it. Bucky raised an eyebrow but held still as she adjusted it, trying not to think of the fact that her face was mere inches from his. They were the same height and her eyes flickered up to see his looking down, watching her fix the tie. She could feel his breath hitting her face and felt an odd, almost electric, tingle that started in her toes and traveled up to settle in her stomach. Time seemed to slow as she settled the tie in place and then proceeded to brush off his lapels and jacket. Her hands brushed over his chest and sides, actions she'd done a thousand times over her lifetime helping him dust off from mud or snow but, in the past, it had always been matter of fact, her focus on his clothing and nothing else. Now, for the first time, her focus was entirely on _him._ She could feel the outline of his body under the dress jacket and shirt he wore, the planes of his chest, the way his sides tapered down to a narrow waist. Stephanie felt herself flush and glanced up, only to find his eyes locked on hers. She froze and found herself unable to look away even as her mind screamed at her to do just that.

His hands had settled on her hips at some point without her notice. Without realizing if he was doing it or her, Stephanie found her body swaying forward until her face was mere centimeters from his, their noses almost touching. His eyes were still boring into hers and just _what_ was that expression he was wearing? She had never seen him look at her like that, had no identification for it but it was causing a low heat to build in her veins and was leaving her just short of breath.  

Someone cleared their throat pointedly.

There was suddenly a good five feet between her and Bucky and Stephanie honestly couldn't say which of them had moved first. She looked past Bucky and felt her face go red with embarrassment at the sight of Peggy, arms crossed with a look of exasperation on her face.

"If you two are quite finished," Peggy said, dryly. "Howard is ready for you."

"Of course," Stephanie said, mortification settling into her very marrow. She shifted awkwardly, lifting her hands and then lowering them again as if she'd suddenly forgotten what to do with them. Feeling a sudden burst of guilt for her attitude, Stephanie turned to face Lorraine and said, "Bucky, this is Lorraine. Lorraine, James Barnes."

Lorraine gave her a downright cold look and Stephanie flinched in shame. There had been no reason to go as far as she had. She had no doubt confused the hell out of Bucky and gone and made an unnecessary enemy at the same time. It wasn't becoming in the least, not as a lady and certainly not as Lady Liberty.

Lorraine leaned forward on the desk, clearly trying to show off her assets and Stephanie clenched her teeth, but kept her peace. "Nice to meet you, James. Your friends call you Bucky?"

"Nah," Bucky said, stepping up to throw an arm around Stephanie's shoulders. "Just her."

Stephanie felt a warm feeling spread through her, some of her embarrassment dissipating.

She turned away to follow Peggy and saw the other woman shaking her head as she nodded toward a door on the far wall. "Just through there."

Bucky, who'd been crazy excited since he'd heard Howard was around took off immediately, soon leaving Stephanie and Peggy trailing behind.

"So," Peggy said mildly, as they approached the door. "Are you and the Soldier an item then? Finally, I might add."

Stephanie rolled her eyes. Peggy had only told her the night before about Bucky's apparent fan following since the picture of him saluting at the fake grave had been released. When she'd gone to the Mess Hall that morning, she'd heard several of the men laughing about it. Apparently, the producers' refusal to name Bucky had not deterred his fans in the least but had simply led to them dubbing him the Solider, an unoriginal name as far as Stephanie was concerned seeing as how he was, in fact, a soldier.

"Don't you start calling him that," she said. "It's silly and I seriously doubt it will catch on." With luck the fervor would die down in a week or two and everyone would forget all about the mysterious man in the photo. "And, no, we aren't an item," there was the slightest sharp edge to her voice as she said it and she crossed her arms. "I don't even know how he feels about me. He could just see me as a friend."

Peggy sighed. "You _really_ don't know the first thing about men. It's quite vexing."

Stephanie bristled. "I know that you and Tony and certain other people are too interested in my damn love life," or lack thereof.

"It's not like there's anything else to do around here until the pieces are set to take down Hydra," Peggy said as they reached the doorway. "And it's not just me or 'certain' other people. You two aren't exactly subtle. There's even a pool."

Stephanie stumbled to a dead stop just before the laboratory door, her mouth gaping. "A _what_?"

Peggy's only response was to grin and then vanish through the doorway. Behind her, Stephanie groaned in despair before following her.

Tony, she thought in annoyance. It was _all_ his fault.

She should have worded the letter stronger.

***

Stephanie watched from across the lab as Bucky listened in rapt attention to Howard explaining some invention or another. She had already discovered there was nothing Howard enjoyed more than talking about his creations and, in Bucky, he'd found an avid listener.

Howard had already given Stephanie her new field costume, and it was certainly a costume though not as bad as she'd initially feared. It was fairly simple, surprising for a Howard Stark creation, dark blue and, much to Stephanie's delight, sporting pants. A small silver star adorned the center of her chest, reminiscent of the one she and Tony had each worn on stage, with bands radiating off it across her chest and wrapping around her shoulders. There was also a leather helmet that went with it, similar to ones she'd seen football players wear. There were also boots and gloves, the material for the gloves surprisingly soft and malleable when she picked one up to examine it.

It had been Bucky who'd chosen to rain on the Howard's parade by pointing out that resistant did not mean proof and it wouldn't take a sharpshooter to zoom in on the bullseye someone had effectively painted on her chest.

"Ah," Howard had exclaimed, his eyes brightening with the look he got when he knew he was about to impress someone. He picked it up and held it in front of him, pointing to the location of the star and stripes. "It's bulletproof," he said proudly, "flexible body armor." He held up the sleeve, nodding to the material. "The rest is blade resistant."

"If that part is bulletproof," Bucky had asked, "why not just make the whole thing from it?"

"Cost prohibitive and it's not _entirely_ flexible," Stark said, "at least for now. I'm working on a few new ideas to get the expense down and work out the kinks in the future. Someday, you may just see the entire army outfitted like you, Steph."

He'd moved on after that before she could respond, leading her over to a table lined with shields of various thicknesses, shapes and styles. She'd ended up going with a simple round one laying off to the side, listening as Howard dismissively told her it was a prototype made from the entire supply of the world's strongest metal.

Still holding it in her hands, surprised at how light and easy it was to hold, Stephanie had raised an eyebrow at him and asked, "you used the world's entire supply to create a giant hubcap and you didn't even intend to let me use it?"

Howard started to respond, stopped, cast a nervous glance toward Bucky and Peggy who were both looking at him, and then carefully took the large disc out of Stephanie's hands and turned to lay it on the table. "We'll get this painted to look more patriotic and get it back to you," he said, ignoring her question entirely. He'd then clapped his hands, spun back around and said, "now, who wants to see what else I've come up with?"

Bucky had of course been interested but Stephanie, upon finding out none of it had involved fighting Hydra, had begged off and retreated to where she was currently leaning against a table watching the two men. Or one man who happened to be standing next to another man, whatever. The lab was far larger than she'd expected it to be, filled with tables and gadgets and gizmos with a dozen or more people in white lab coats milling about doing various tasks.

"So," Peggy said, coming over to lean against the table next to her, "I take it from your little show earlier that you don't intend to let other women around him but you still haven't spoken to him yourself?" she raised an eyebrow, "that's not particularly fair, is it?"

Stephanie felt her face heat in embarrassment and she crossed her arms. "We're in the military," she groused, "we're not supposed to be in relationships like that."

Peggy burst out laughing, so loud she drew attention from Bucky and Howard on the other side of the lab. Stephanie gave them a wave and then, lowering her voice, hissed, "would you stop? What's so funny about what I said?"

"For starters, I wasn't aware one of you two was German," Peggy said, still laughing. "The second is, as you so often like to point out, the military doesn't acknowledge your enlistment so I doubt they could enforce anything without it becoming quite messy and, third; you have quite the status now. I doubt requesting your husband, who is very qualified I might add, stay with you would be asking too much, it's not like you're demanding a statue in Time Square."

"I could demand a statue in Time Square?" Stephanie asked wryly and got a dry look in return.

"My point," Peggy said, "is you can't expect the poor man to stay in limbo forever. Either claim him or let him move on."

There was the slightest sharpness to her voice and Stephanie flinched in guilt. "I know." Peggy was right. She couldn't just expect Bucky to stay by her side forever exactly as they were. "If I say something it'll change everything, and not necessarily for the better."

Peggy shrugged. "In that case you just must ask yourselves, is the relationship you two already have strong enough to withstand such a change, for better or for worse?"

Stephanie scowled, annoyed at the way Peggy was calmly refuting every objection she came up with, and using her marriage vows to do it. "And what if you're wrong?" she said, her voice still low. Across the lab Howard and Bucky were still deep in discussion, their heads close together. There was a lot of noise and chatter in the lab but Stephanie could still barely make out their voices with her enhanced hearing and couldn't help the irrational fear that Bucky could somehow hear her and Peggy even without enhanced hearing. "What if he's not interested in me at all and you and Tony and whoever else are all just imagining it because you don't know him? I know him, and I don't see it so how the hell do you think the rest of you do?"

"You're too close to it," Peggy said shortly. She sighed and then suddenly got a determined look on her face. "Come with me." She grabbed Stephanie's arm and tugged her to the side, while looking over her shoulder to shout toward Howard, "we're going to go try on her costume. Be right back!"

Howard frowned. "We had her measurements, it should fit perfectly."

"You never know," Peggy said airily as she continued to drag Stephanie toward a nearby door. "You've seen how much she likes dessert."

"Hey!" Stephanie said, outraged, but Peggy's only response was to open the door and push her into what appeared to be a large storage room.

"Wait here a moment."

The door slammed shut and Stephanie sighed in exasperation, wondering what the the other woman was up too.

The door reopened a few seconds later and Peggy was sliding in, a large box in her arms. "Here you go, try this on."

Stephanie took the box, set it on a low bench, opened it, and promptly froze. "This is not my costume."

"No," Peggy said casually, leaning against a large shelving unit, "this is the original design Howard created, before I found out and made him change it."

"You have my thanks," Stephanie said dryly. "Why do I have to put this on?"

"Just trust me," Peggy said. "I'm going to prove a point." When Stephanie hesitated, the other woman raised an eyebrow and said, "Well? Go on. We don't have all day."

Stephanie rolled her eyes but obediently began to strip down to her underclothes. Once she had she reached into the box and pulled out the first item, nylons. "Really? He expected me to fight Hydra in tights?" She ran the material over her fingers and was surprised to find it felt like a thin, closely woven metal mesh.

"I doubt very much he was thinking of Hydra," Peggy said dryly, "though it is blade proof at least so there's that."

"Forget Hydra then," Stephanie muttered, pulling the tights on, "Howard should market these as run proof tights. He'd make a fortune, another one."

She reached into the box and pulled out a silvery looking body suit. It had long sleeves with a loop that went over her middle fingers to keep the cuffs in place, and a high collar that covered her neck. Somehow, despite having more fabric than her Lady Liberty costume, it managed to be even more form fitting and left even less to the imagination. There was a short jacket that went with it. It was cut to just under her bust, had a single button and appeared to be designed solely to accentuate said bust and waist. There were slender silver gloves in the box that she got out next followed by a skirt that was at least three inches shorter than her Lady Liberty skirt. The final item was a pair of boots that looked just like her Lady Liberty ones, complete with heels. Stephanie held them up with a sigh of exasperation. "Really?"

"Put them on and let's go show everyone how you might have looked," Peggy said.

"No," Stephanie said immediately. She put the boots down on the bench and pulled the gloves off. "This thing has a shorter skirt than the Liberty costume, which I didn't think was possible by the way. No way I'm going out there in this thing."

She set the gloves down next to the boots and went to start taking the jacket off only to have Peggy grab her wrists. "You want to see just how Sergeant Barnes feels about you or not?"

"How is this possibly going to show that?" Stephanie asked.

"Trust me," Peggy replied, pulling her toward the door. "He's a man in love. There's one of only a few ways I imagine he'll respond and none of them will leave his feelings in question, believe me."

With that she shoved the door open and pulled Stephanie out into the main area of the lab. "Oh, Howard," she called out, "look what I managed to get Stephanie to try on. All your work won't go to complete waste after all."

Howard and Bucky tuned to look at her, along with most of the lab, and every last one of them promptly froze.

At the same time, dead silence fell, all movement in the room ceasing as all eyes were suddenly on Stephanie.

Stephanie found herself desperately wishing that the floor would open and swallow her on the spot. She crossed her arms self-consciously and stood stiffly, her face feeling like it was on fire. She should have worn the boots, she decided belatedly, if only to cover up her legs a bit. She could feel the cooler air of the lab cutting through her clothing and made a note to check her newer costume to make sure Howard had thought of temperature concerns as well as bullet concerns.

She was still being gawked at and, in a sudden fit of desperation, Stephanie cast about for something to break the seeming deadlock, at least a little. Her eyes landed on the table of weapons Howard had been showing her earlier, complete with a knife that was apparently present for no reason as she'd been assured Hydra wasn't going to try and attack her with a pocketknife.

Stepping forward quickly, and without thinking about it overmuch, Stephanie snatched the blade off the table and said, "look, Bucky, Peggy said the tights are blade proof."

With that she reached down and dragged the knife across her upper thigh, only belatedly thinking she might have wanted to verify the claims a bit before going all out. Luckily, Howard's tights were apparently better made than his flying cars and, as she lifted the blade away, it was to see unmarked tights and skin left in its wake.

She looked up in excitement to show Bucky, only to find him in front of her, pale and looking more than a little panicked. Before she could react, he swept an arm across the table, knocking most of the weapons to the floor. He grabbed her by the waist and lifted her to sit on the table, then caught her leg, bracing her foot against his thigh. She felt his hand grip the bottom of her calf while his other went up and proceeded to grab her inner thigh just at the knee.

A jolt raced through her and Stephanie sucked in a ragged breath, her entire body straightening and her fingers gripping the edges of the table where she'd put them on instinct when he'd lifted her. She'd dropped the knife when he'd first appeared in front of her and could see it laying on the floor just behind him.

"Bucky!" she managed to gasp out, her voice oddly breathy even as her face aspired to reach a whole new level of hot.

Bucky had been examining her leg, clearly looking for the gaping wound he no doubt expected to be there, but now he went still. His head came up slowly, his eyes wide and all color leeched from his face.

He jerked his hands off her leg like it was a live wire and stepped back. "I'm so sorry, Steph--"

"It's okay," Stephanie hurriedly cut in. She nodded toward the knife on the floor as she slid off the table to stand in front of him. "I shouldn't have just gone for it like that. I'm sorry I scared you."

Bucky started to answer only to look past her and, if possible, grow paler at the sight of everyone in the lab still staring at them. "I - um --" he stammered, backing away. "I'm going to go -- I --" he nodded at her and continued backing away quickly, nearly running into a fridge as he spun around to make his exit.

Stephanie watched him go and then whirled on her foot to glare at Peggy before stomping past her to the storage room again to change back. She was just getting the tights off when Peggy slipped into the room, a gleeful look on her face.

"That," she said with satisfaction, "went even better than I expected."

"This is all your fault," Stephanie groused, reaching for her clothes.

"My fault?" Peggy said. "I'm not the one who decided to test Howard's technology by trying to cut my own leg off." She leaned against the door, crossing her arms and giving Stephanie a knowing look. "And, besides, aren't you ignoring the main issue? You can't tell me the way he was reacting is how a friend would. For that matter, I don't think you can argue how he treated you earlier was friendly, or last night on the dance floor." She cocked her head to one side, studying Stephanie. "Don't you think it's about time you stop deluding yourself?"

Stephanie pulled her pants on slowly and reached for her shirt. "And just what exactly would you have me do about it?"

Peggy shrugged. "You're married. Invite him to your room, it should get the message across fairly clearly I would think."

Stephanie froze, shooting the other woman a slightly panicked look and she sighed in response.

"He isn't going to wait around forever," she said sternly, putting her hand on the doorknob to leave. "So you're going to have to ask yourself the question, are you willing to take a step into the unknown in the hopes of keeping him or are you willing to lose him without a fight?" She started to open the door and paused, looking down at her hand on the knob. "This isn't any worse than letting yourself get experimented on you know, and that certainly turned out all right in the end."

Stephanie pulled her shirt on, her eyes focused on the ground. Peggy opened the door to leave and, as she did, Stephanie said, "You're in on the pool, aren't you?"

Peggy gave her an innocent look. "Me? You think I would take part in something as vulgar as betting?"

"I think you would and you're cheating at it," Stephanie said dryly.

Peggy gave a brilliant grin in response. "It isn't cheating, it's called using your assets." She shrugged as she walked out, shutting the door behind her. "It's not my fault I have more assets than others."

The door shut and Stephanie sighed. She finished dressing and slumped down on the bench in the hopes the others outside would forget about her eventually and she could slip out relatively unnoticed.

_"Are you willing to take a step into the unknown in the hopes of keeping him or are you willing to lose him without a fight?"_

She scowled. Peggy already knew the answer to that, as did Stephanie. She was going to have to speak to Bucky, a notion that caused her stomach to knot inside her and a cold sweat to break out on her skin.

Talk to Bucky. Let him know how she truly felt. See if he was willing to explore a different aspect to their relationship or if he'd been happy with things the way they were. After all it wasn't as if he weren't just as capable as she was in broaching the subject.

Stephanie sighed and dropped her head forward into her hands, bracing her elbows on her knees. She could find a million excuses and reasons for not speaking to him if she wanted and all of them would ultimately amount to the same thing, losing him. Maybe not today or tomorrow but one day and if there was one thing she knew more than anything else it was that she'd already lost him enough for one lifetime and had no desire to repeat the process ever again.

Which meant getting her act together and talking to him.

Stephanie groaned and lightly beat her head against her hands.

She'd rather face Hydra.

 


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! :D Second update coming tomorrow! :D Hope you will enjoy that one too!

Luckily, there were no less than six Hydra bases waiting for her to come and remove them from the map with the promise of a seventh if they could find it.

For the first one, Stephanie decided to go with the direct approach.

She and her men, who had decided their team needed a name and chose the Howling Commandos for reasons known only to the male brain, walked up to the front door, kicked it in and started firing.

In hindsight, there were several problems with her strategy. For one thing, she had picked her men for a reason, and promptly failed to use any of their abilities in the attack. Not only that but it was sheer dumb luck that none of them were shot in the initial charge through the door. She had her men stand behind her and her shield but they were forced to fan out on either side of her as they entered to avoid shooting her in the back. If they had run out of bullets faster than Hydra, or if the enemy had been given the chance to circle around so they weren't facing a wall of ammunition head on...things could have gone quite different for any one of them.

And it would have been entirely on her. She was supposed to be protecting them, not putting them in needless danger.

Another problem was Stephanie quickly found out just how much she hated using a gun. She hadn't wanted to at all at first but Phillips had insisted she be armed with something other than her good looks, dumb luck and reckless disregard for her own safety. Bucky had dragged her out to the range to train and Stephanie had felt confident when she'd shoved the gun into the holster they'd given her and set out on her mission.

She'd continued to feel confident, right up until she had to draw the weapon, aim it at another human being, and pull the trigger.

She'd missed every shot she took.

Bucky had not been happy.

Oddly enough, that turned out to be one of the pluses of the mission, aside from the obvious fact that they succeeded and none of her men got hurt.

Things had been off between her and Bucky since the lab. Bucky had been so mortified by what had happened that he'd started checking himself every time he moved to touch her. She, in turn, found every time she came in physical contact with him in any way something like a bolt of pure electricity shot right through her. It made her terrified she'd give herself away and, since they were only ever together in public, it'd mean revealing her emotions in an environment not on her terms and in a setting where she'd be unable to properly talk to him about it. So, rather than the ease they'd had around one another for the entirety of their lives their relationship had suddenly turned into exactly what she'd been most afraid of.

Awkward.

Suddenly neither of them were touching or, worse, one would make start to make a move, born of years of familiarity, only to find themselves halting mid-step, hands dropping and smiles faltering.

She was partly to blame, she knew, for not having gone after him immediately from the lab to talk to them right then. She'd let it linger, at which point it had begun to fester, a silence allowed to go on for far too long and now it had turned into a veritable wall between them.

Of late, they'd taken to almost avoiding one another entirely rather than try to tiptoe around and make suddenly stilted, awkward polite talk.

So, in a weird way, her sudden failure to use a gun had been one of the positives to come out of the first mission.

It had gotten through the wall.  

It had been after they'd cleared out the base while they'd been hiking back to where they'd hidden the vehicles. Stephanie had been focused on the ground, trying to stop the involuntary shivers wracking her frame. With the weapons facility, she'd been utterly focused on finding and saving Bucky. Most of the fighting had happened without her present and, while she'd seen the dead, it hadn't been a focus. She'd been more worried on getting back home and, thankfully, she'd had a huge army at her back in case something went haywire, including experienced officers more than willing to help guide her.

Here had been the first time she'd _witnessed_ men dying. It was the first time the pressure had been completely on her, the lives of others dependent on her. It was the first time...and she'd been terrified.

Even then she felt ill. Part of her wanted nothing more than to bend over and throw up everything she'd eaten for the past week. Instead she was trying to stay focused, to project an air of calm and authority. She couldn't fail at this, no one was going to give her a second chance and they certainly weren't going to give any allowances for her to get used to things, if that were even possible.

"You know," Bucky said suddenly from where he'd been walking next to her in silence, "that gun isn't just be a prop. You're supposed to actually use it."

"I did use it," Stephanie said, still focused on trying to quiet her churning stomach.

"Really?" Bucky asked. "That's funny because I could swear you had better aim than that."

"You already know I don't want to kill anyone." Stephanie retorted and Bucky sighed in exasperation.

"Then maybe you shouldn't have joined a war."

Stephanie frowned and opened her mouth to shout at him, only to snap it shut as she realized how rock steady his hand was on his rifle. The others were as well, she noted, Dum Dum and Gabe even laughing over something as they walked a few yards ahead.

"How do you do it?"

Bucky gave her a confused look, clearly not expecting the sudden change in topic. "How do I do what?"

"This," Stephanie said waving a hand at the others. "We were getting _shot_ at," she said, her eyes wide, "and people _died_ in front of us, because _we_ killed them." Well, Bucky and the Commandos but she'd been the one to kick the door down and lead them in. "How do you just--" she waved a wand again, encompassing him and the rest of the Commandos.

Bucky didn't answer right away and, for a few moments they walked in silence. Finally, Bucky sighed and said, "first battle I was in I threw up all over my shoes, took weeks to get the smell out." His eyes were fixed on his boots as he spoke as if he could still smell it. "First man I killed," here his voice dropped. "I didn't sleep for a week, spent all my time picturing his parents' reaction when they found out, wondering if he had a wife or kids."

"How'd you get past it?" Stephanie asked. Without thinking she moved closer and wrapped her arms around his bicep like she'd used to do, pulling herself close to him. If there was one thing in life she'd never been able to handle it was Bucky Barnes in pain.

"Thought about _my_ parents' reaction if it'd been me instead of him," he answered, lifting his eyes to look at her. "He was trying to kill me as much as I was trying to kill him. I just happened to be a better shot that day. As for the rest--" He shrugged. "You figure out what you're fighting for. Way I see it, we're like a wall, standing between evil and everyone we've ever loved." He pulled his arm free, switching his rifle to his other hand so he could catch her around the waist, the move natural as if there had never been any awkwardness between them at all. "You don't get up and go out it means you've left a hole in the wall. Who knows what might get through?"

Stephanie nodded. She could feel herself starting to calm down, the shivers subsiding. "And it goes away?" she asked softly. "The fear I mean? It gets better?"

"No, and you don't want it gone," Bucky said. Up ahead the clearing where they'd stored the vehicles came into view and they headed toward it. "Fear keeps you from getting reckless." He gave her a sardonic look, "or, in your case, outright suicidal I suppose."

Stephanie gave him a guilty grin. She never had gotten around to telling him that the way she'd gotten behind enemy lines had been to jump from an airplane into anti-aircraft fire.

"You get used to it, after a fashion," Bucky continued. They'd reached the truck and he went to toss his rifle in the back. "You remember what you're fighting for and--" He moved to clap a hand on Dum Dum's shoulder and, for the first time, Stephanie realized all of them were standing quietly at the back of the truck, watching her. She flushed, worried over how much they'd heard but the only thing she saw in their eyes was compassion. "You remember you aren't alone."

"I had nightmares for a month after my first fight," Dum Dum said, "still do sometimes."

"I threw up," Gabe said. He nodded at Jacques, beside him. "He froze."

"I might have thrown up," Tim muttered and, next to him, Falsworth nodded silently.

"What we're trying to say," Dum Dum said, "is stop trying to be a superhuman, Cap. You're doing just fine."

"I am a superhuman though," Stephanie said with a shaky laugh. "And I'm not a Captain so that nickname doesn't even fit."

"You're our Captain," Falsworth said, "so I think we can call you whatever we like."

"But somewhere else," Bucky said, appearing beside her. He dropped his overcoat on her shoulders and steered her toward the passenger side of the truck. "Preferably less cold and less likely to be attacked in the next hour once reinforcements arrive."

The others agreed and, soon enough, they were on their way back toward the SSR headquarters. If any of her men noticed her wiping at her face a few times they never said a word and, once they arrived back, the only things she heard from them was how amazing she'd been for her first mission and how utterly successful it had been.

It was later that night, back in her civilian clothes and seated with the Commandos in the Mess Hall that she heard something clatter against her chair. Bucky dropped into the seat next to her as she looked down to see her shield, which she'd left in Howard's lab to get touched up after they'd returned.

"What's that for?" she asked with a frown.

"I was talking to Howard about some of the properties it has and what he thinks it might be capable of doing," Bucky said. He nodded toward the shield. "That," he said carefully, "is one hell of a weird shield but Howard thinks it might be able to be used as both an offensive and defensive weapon." His eyes turned dark. "You may not want to kill anyone, Steph, but I can assure you the feeling isn't going to be mutual. You don't want a gun, fine, but you need something." He put a foot out and nudged the shield. "It's not a gun but, with training, you can probably learn to defend yourself and knock out whoever's shooting at you."

"At which point _we'll_ shoot them," Dum Dum said cheerfully and the other Commandos nodded in agreement.

"Damn straight," Bucky said. He settled back in his chair, one hand resting on the surface of the table. "So, who here wants to join me in the training room after dinner to help Lady Liberty learn how to kick Hydra's ass with a glorified hubcap?"

Instantly the hands of all her men, Bucky included, went up and Stephanie bit back a small smile.

After dinner, they set out as a team to the training room where she soon found out that her shield was, in fact, as Bucky had described, weird.

***

Stephanie got to show off her new skills with the second base they attacked.

Here it was assumed Hydra might be expecting them. Phillips sent a larger force with Stephanie and the Commandos at the head. The weather was miserable and Stephanie was half afraid they'd end up with hypothermia before they got to the base.

The approach reminded her of the weapons facility all over again as they made their way through a heavily wooded area. It was as they were passing under a large tree that Stephanie saw Bucky frown next to her, his head cocked to one side as if listening.

She frowned as well, just in time to hear the creak of a branch from the tree overhead. Instantly she turned, spinning with her shield as if she were a discus player, and threw it up into the tree. It hit something with a soft thud before returning to her like a boomerang as a man fell from a high branch, landing in the thick snow with a thud that made her flinch in sympathy.

She grinned at Bucky who gave her a tight look in return. "You think he was the only sentry?"

"I hope so," Stephanie whispered back before signaling for them all to get moving again.

As it turned out the man was not the only sentry and it wasn't long before an alarm was raised. Before she knew it, Stephanie found herself at the head of a charge straight into enemy fire, her shield raised before as bullets battered it and what she hoped wasn't artillery from a tank exploded around them.

It was a tank.

They managed to circle around in front of it and made it to the main road. Jacques gave her a run for her money in terms of recklessness by running into the middle of the road and laying down to allow said tank to run over him. Once it did he affixed an explosive to the undercarriage which very quickly dealt with that problem. Once it was out of their way it was easy enough to swarm the second base and successfully remove it from the map as they'd done with its predecessor and with the weapons facility.

That night, as they celebrated back in the small camp they'd been using as a base of operations, Stephanie held her hands out in front of her and found they were barely shaking at all.

Dum Dum dropped down next to her and nodded toward where Bucky was sprawled out in a sleeping bag on the other side of the fire. "You and he seem to have stalled. What's going on? I've got a lot riding on this you know."

Stephanie groaned. "Don't tell me you're in on the pool too."

He grinned and she sighed and banged her head lightly on her drawn up knees. "We're in the middle of a war," she said, almost to herself, wrapping her arms around her legs and studying the ground at her feet. "We're taking Hydra off the map. Is it really the best time?"

"It'll never be the _best_ time," Dum Dum said. "But that don't mean it ain't _the_ time. Life is the thing that gets in the way of your life, right up until you stop letting it."

Stephanie smirked and gave him a sidelong glance. "When did you become a philosopher?"

He snorted and took a swig from his canteen which, judging by the smell, did not contain water. "When I started putting money down on it."

Stephanie studied Bucky, absently chewing on her lower lip. "It's cold, right?"

"That it is," Dum Dum agreed casually.

"And we don't have tents," Stephanie mused, "so it'd be perfectly reasonable to sleep close to one another, for warmth of course."

"Oh, of course," Dum Dum agreed, his expression perfectly innocent. "I doubt anyone would fault you for that."

Stephanie nodded to herself. "Right." She reached over, grabbed his canteen and took a large pull from it before handing it back.

"Thought you couldn't get drunk?" Dum Dum said and she smiled at him.

"It's the thought that counts." She got to her feet and, on impulse, held her hands out in front of her. They were rock steady, she noted with pride, which was a good thing as she was utterly terrified.

With a deep breath, she walked over and grabbed her bedroll, carried it to where Bucky was sprawled out and dumped it unceremoniously next to him. She dropped down in front of him and wiggled back until her back was pressed against his chest. She felt him shift and then an arm was sliding around her waist and she felt him curl around her, a tired mumble suggesting he wasn't even full awake yet.

Stephanie reached down and wrapped her fingers over his hand where it lay around her waist and relaxed, letting her eyes close.

She wasn't losing him.

She'd gone through hell to get him back and she'd be damned if she'd done all that just to let him walk away, at least not without him knowing exactly how she felt first. She still had no idea what words she was going to say or how to broach the subject but one thing she did know was it was happening once they got back to headquarters.

Dum Dum was right. She could spend her entire life making excuses, or she could bite the proverbial bullet and get on with it.

It was time to stop letting life get in the way of her life.

***

Life, as it turned out, was an unmitigated bastard that apparently felt it'd been personally challenged and was a damn sore loser.

Once she'd committed to talking to Bucky it promptly became determined to get in her way.

Well, it and her producers. There were four more Hydra bases to take care of, plus the seventh if they could find it, but apparently, none of that was as important as making sure she pranced around in a to short skirt and high heels.

Really, did anyone _believe_ she was fighting Hydra dressed like that?  Every time she tried to find a moment alone to talk to Bucky she ended up getting dragged off by them for video or photos, often times with Bucky in his new role as the mysterious Soldier which was even more annoying as he was _right_ there; or Phillips wanted to talk to her or Howard wanted to discuss new potential designs for future costumes or a thousand other things.

About the only upside to it all was that, since the first two missions, things were not just back to normal between them, they were better than normal, better than they'd ever been in fact. Every time she turned around it seemed he was there to throw an arm around her shoulders, hug her or flat out wrap his arms around her waist and lift her off her feet.

Stephanie responded to him every time, wanting to enforce the fact that she truly _wasn't_ avoiding him or trying to hold him at arm's length. She simply wasn't being given the time she needed to talk to him, which was beyond frustrating.

Peggy's crack about inviting him to her room was beginning to look more and more reasonable, not that she was anywhere _near_ that brave. Not yet anyway but, if things kept going as they were, she might well reach that level simply from sheer desperation.

***

In the end, in what turned out to be rather poetic, the breaking point came about because of Tony.

Thinking about it later, this should not have surprised her.

It happened about a week or so after they'd returned from taking the second Hydra base. A long week mostly filled with annoying heels and a skirt that left her legs freezing in the underground base despite the serum.

She had just changed out of the stupid thing when there was a knock on her door and she opened it to see one of the men with letters for her. She thanked him and went to lean back against the small desk in her room to open them.

Bucky's parents and sister had written her. Bucky had told them to send any mail for her to him and he'd make sure she got it. After being yelled at via letter for being reckless Stephanie had settled into general correspondence with them, highly limited on her end as most of what she did was classified. They in turn told her about their day to day lives, the young man Rebecca was currently seeing, the difficulty Bucky's mom was in getting the ingredients she wanted for certain dishes with everything so rationed, the pride Bucky's father felt in having two of his kids serving in the armed forces, no matter the capacity.

That brought her up short, her vision blurring at the thought of being able to call herself someone's child again. Her parents would always be Sarah and Joe Rogers of course but, as surrogates, and technically her in-laws there were no people she would have wanted more than George and Winifred Barnes, no sister-in-law more than Rebecca.

She set the letters down with an unbidden smile on her face and picked up the final letter, her heart jumping slightly as she saw Tony's familiar handwriting on the envelope. She'd forgotten all about the sternly worded letter she'd sent him and was now deeply regretting it. He'd only been trying to help after all and, besides, wasn't the alternative to not knowing worse? The thought of her and James dancing around one another the rest of their lives or, still worse yet, drifting apart and going their separate ways when there possibly had been no need for it?

She owed him a thank you, and possibly an apology.

With a deep breath, she opened the letter and braced herself for what surely would be a well-deserved tongue lashing from her friend.

_Hey Sweetheart,_

_I got your letter. It's good to hear you're doing all right. Things are well enough over here. Thanks to your letter of recommendation, the Army decided to take me after all. They won't let me fight - sounds familiar, don't it? - but they've decided I make a damn good recruiter. It's a bit like before only I get to be myself. I enjoy it._

_Me and Polly went and made it official, far as going together I mean though I imagine the rest will be coming too._

Good for them, Stephanie thought. They both deserved the best. She made a mental note to congratulate them in the next letter. Her smile faded as her eyes skimmed over the next few words of the letter and her stomach tightened again.   

_As to the rest of your letter, I didn't plant anything in your mind that wasn't already there, Sweetheart. You went forty miles behind enemy lines on the hope you'd find him. You don't do that for just anyone and, take it from a fellow guy, the way your guy treats you isn't how a man treats a girl he considers simply a friend. You two are goners for one another and the only one who doesn't see it seems to be you._

Not anymore, Stephanie thought grudgingly. She scanned the rest of the letter and saw it contained more general information about his new job and responsibilities as well as a short postscript with greetings from Polly.

Her eyes went back to one line and she frowned in sudden suspicion. She pushed up from her desk and stalked out of the room.

Dum Dum and the others were up in the Mess Hall where she'd already been planning to meet them for dinner. Bucky was nowhere in sight so she didn't hesitate as she wove between soldiers and staff to where they were clustered around what they'd come to consider their table in the back corner.

Reaching them, she slapped the letter down in front of Dum Dum. He raised an eyebrow at her but obligingly picked the paper up and scanned it.

"Is this all _your_ fault? Did you put him up to this?" She frowned, trying to remember if she'd ever seen Dum Dum and Tony together during the short time they would have both been at camp together. She couldn't remember it but that didn't mean it hadn't happened. She couldn't be everywhere at once. She stabbed her finger at the lines about the type of girl who would go after Bucky. "You said almost the same thing to me after I got you out of the weapons facility. You talked to Tony and put him up to it."

Dum Dum looked amused. He handed the letter off to Jacques to pass to the other men and, for the first time, it occurred to Stephanie that perhaps it wasn't something she'd want everyone reading. She went to grab it back only to have Gabe happily hold it out of her reach and pass it off to the other Falsworth who then handed it to Jim.

"Didn't put anyone up to anything," Dum Dum said happily. "This mean you're going to finally say something to the poor kid?"

Stephanie growled in frustration, finally managing to snatch her letter back from Jim. "You're all jerks," she muttered, "and I'm going to find out what day or time or whatever it is you put down in the pool and then choose another just to spite the lot of you."

Her men were all suddenly intensely focused in on her and Stephanie realized belatedly that, once again, she'd given away a bit more than she'd intended.

"So," Dum Dum, ever the team's spokesman, said casually, "you _do_ plan to talk to him."

Stephanie felt her face go red. "That's none of your business."

"Oh, now it's none of our business," Gabe muttered, only to flinch as she turned a glare on him.

"Cap," Dum Dum said, "it's our business only because we're the ones who have to put up with you two pining after one another all the time. It's exhausting."

Stephanie glared at him. She held the look for only a moment and then felt her shoulders slump. With a sigh of resignation she dropped into an empty chair next to him. "It really is, isn't it? It's not like I've had five seconds to myself to even think about... you know." She waved a hand absently, scowling. Where was Peggy when she needed her? The other woman had been gone when they had gotten back, off on some mission or another.

"Don't see what's so difficult about it myself," Falsworth said in amusement. "Just grab the kid and show him who's boss the next time you see him."

Stephanie gave him a look that was part horror, part scandalized and he burst into laughter.

"In case you haven't noticed," she hissed, her voice low as she tried desperately to get them off the track they were on. "He's married, and I'm not that kind of woman."

"Pretty sure there ain't nothing wrong with falling in love with your own husband," Dum Dum Dum said dryly.

Stephanie gaped at him. "What?" she asked, to stunned to even deny it. "How did you -- what--"

"Common sense," Falsworth broke in. "We don't know all the details, and I imagine whatever the circumstances are it must make for one hell of a story." Here the others nodded sagely as he continued. "But, safe to say, it's pretty obvious for anyone who bothers to think it through. You've said yourself the two of you have been together forever, and the only girl Barnes has eyes for is you."

"And," Dum Dum added, "As you say, you ain't that kind of girl so the only reason you'd be taking liberties with a married man the way you do is if he's married to you." He grinned at the shock in her eyes. "Don't worry. You got your reasons and we know how to keep our mouths shut."

"It was mostly to protect me," Stephanie said slowly, "and then to protect him in turn." She frowned, "do you think anyone else knows? If Hydra found out--" Her voice trailed off as she considered the possibility of Hydra targeting Bucky because he was married to her.

"No one's cared to think it through far as I can see," Dum Dum said. "Don't think many want too. They got their own fantasies about Lady Liberty and The Soldier and they don't much work if the two of them are married to each other now do they?"

"I suppose not," Stephanie murmured. She didn't think the people in the SSR cared very much about that sort of thing but they had the rumors Hodge spread about which meant in a bizarre twisted sort of way, she almost had him to thank for inadvertently protecting her and Bucky. The marriage had started out simply as Bucky's way to protect her, then she'd kept it secret to protect him from any fallout over her forged enlistment, then Lady Liberty had needed to be single to be desirable and she'd still wanted him safe from fallout, and now she needed him safe from Hydra.

It was becoming clear that being married to her was far more dangerous to Bucky Barnes than either of them had ever considered. If they got into an actual relationship--

"Oh, no you don't," Dum Dum cut in and she jerked her eyes up to his in confusion. "I know that look," Dum Dum said, "you're trying to think of all the different ways you can talk yourself out of it again." He raised a finger and pointed it at her. His eyes flickered behind her and he leaned forward on the table. "Look, we'll make it easy on you," he said. "We'll make it a bet. I'll bet you a week's worth of latrine duty that you won't lay one on Barnes the next time you see him. How's about that? You can even tell him it's for a bet, let him in on it. Kid hates latrine duty, he'll go with it."

Bucky wasn't the only one who hated latrine duty. Originally the men had offered to leave her off the rotation given she was a lady and their leader but Stephanie had very foolishly insisted she wanted to be a true member of the team. She'd regretted it immediately but it had been far too late to take it back. "What in the world will that prove?"

"Break the ice," Dum Dum said instantly, the rest of the men nodding in agreement, "get you two to move past gaping at each other all the damn time. Now what do you say? It is a bet or not?"

"Is what a bet?" Bucky asked from over her shoulder and Stephanie let out a small shriek of surprise, spinning around in her seat to see him looming over her. How the heck he kept managing to sneak up on her, despite her advanced hearing, she had no idea. He raised an eyebrow at her reaction, frowning. "What'd I miss?"

"Just a friendly wager," Dum Dum said, settling back in his chair and raising his drink. "We were just betting the Captain here that--"

"They called you the Captain's Kept Man before!" Stephanie blurted, not sure where the words had even come from. "And the Captain's Mistress and one time Dum Dum said there should be a pin up poster of you so all the housewives can hang them up in the fireplace and use the heat from that to keep warm instead of a real fire."

Dead silence fell over the table.

Stephanie gave a weak grin to Dum Dum who shook his head, a mock look of betrayal in his eyes.

"That's just cold, Cap," Gabe said, shaking his head. "Cold."

"Training room," Bucky said shortly, his eyes narrowed. He reached down and grabbed her hand to pull her to her feet. "We'll find out who the Captain's Kept Man is right now."

He started to usher her toward the door, his hand moving from her arm to slide around her waist.

Behind them, she heard the Commandos complaining but they obediently got up and followed along behind.  

Stephanie frowned at Bucky as something occurred to her. "Wait, are you suggesting there _is_ a Captain's Kept Man but it's not you?"

He gave her a roguish smirk. "Of course it's me, but they're going to be saying it with respect when I'm done with them."

Stephanie smiled back at him, her face growing hot and, together, they headed for the training room.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Stephanie takes Peggy's advice, though not for the reasons the other woman had intended.  
> At least, not at first.

Stephanie leaned against the wall of the training room and idly chewed on her lower lip. The room spanned an entire floor below the control center and was filled with all manner of standard gym style mats and punching bags and the like, as well as an added assortment of weapons up to and including a small firing range in the back.

It was currently empty but for them because, as Jim had pointed out, everyone else was sane and either in the process of going to bed or eating dinner like normal people in the Mess Hall.

"Quit your whining," Bucky said in response to the complaint. He slipped his shoes off and headed to the center of one of the mats. "This'll be over quick and you can get back to stuffing your face." He pulled his jacket off and loosened his tie, an action which caused Stephanie to straighten slightly on the wall.

He seemed to notice as he gave her a downright sunny smile before pulling his tie off and walking over to drop it and his jacket on a bench. With his back to her, the jerk, he proceeded to unbutton his dress shirt and then pulled that off, revealing a _very_ close fitting white undershirt.

It wasn't as if Stephanie had never seen him in a t-shirt before but it had been a long time and she hadn't been in love with him them. Now she found herself nearly fixated by the movement of the muscles of his biceps as he folded the dress shirt and put it on the bench. At least she was until Dum Dum walked past her and cleared his throat pointedly, and with more than a little amusement.

Stephanie flinched in surprise and jerked her eyes away just as Bucky turned around to face Dum Dum who'd walked out onto the mat.

"You're up first, Dugan?" Bucky settled back on his heels, his hands raised in a defensive position. With his attention diverted, Stephanie took the opportunity to follow the line of his body from the top of his head down to his bare feet.

She was just checking his stance, honest.

"Yeah, why not?" Dum Dum responded, taking his hat off and tossing it off to the side. "How about we make it interesting? We lose and you're off-latrine duty for a month. You lose and Captain's Mistress becomes your official nickname. We'll even have them print it under your next photo so they'll stop calling you the Soldier." He grinned. "You did say you hated the name."

On the far wall Falsworth, where he was lined up with the other Commandos, called out, "I think we should call him Sergeant Pretty Boy."

"You're next," Bucky said, pointing at him. He frowned at Dum Dum. "That's what we're losing. What does the winner get, aside from the joy of watching you lot dig and fill in holes for the next month?"

"Well, I think that'd be obvious." Dum Dum said with a mischievous grin. He nodded toward Stephanie and her eyes widened as she realized, belatedly, what Dum Dum was doing. "The man who wins, be it you or the guy who ends up pinning you, gets a kiss from our very own Lady Liberty, with her permission of course."

Bucky went completely still and his face took on a set look that most interpreted as disinterest but Stephanie knew was somewhere closer to him plotting out how best to kill someone.

All the Commandos were staring at her, Dum Dum with a raised eyebrow, and Stephanie glared back at him. He was getting her back for turning on them in the Mess Hall. Bastards.  

Then she glanced at Bucky and felt a brief burst of irritation at the look in his eyes. The thought of her potentially kissing someone else clearly bothered him, which bolstered the claims others had been telling her about him, and if that _was_ true then it meant he could have talked to her as much as she could talk to him.  

"Fine," she said shortly. Bucky's eyes widened and she gave him a challenging look. If he didn't want her kissing someone else, in front of him, he'd better get his act together and not lose. Besides it wasn't as if Dum Dum had specified, no doubt on purpose, that she had to kiss anyone on the lips and she trusted her men enough to know they wouldn't force the issue. If one of her men won, she'd give them a peck on the cheek. If _Bucky_ won, and she had a sneaking position he would if her men had anything to say about it; well, that would depend on whether her courage held out...which meant he should get a move on.

"Don't lose," she told Bucky and he gave her an incredulous look.

"As if I would." He smirked and Stephanie felt her face heat in embarrassment. Somewhere along the line she and Bucky had started behaving almost as if they were already together, a positive sign for any future talk, assuming she ever got the chance to have said talk.

"Don't break him," she added with a frown as the two moved toward one another.

"Who are you talking to?" Bucky asked in confusion.

"Both of you," Stephanie replied dryly.

Dum Dum moved forward, and a second later found himself laid out flat on the mat.

Stephanie blinked in surprise. She hadn't even seen Bucky move, much less what he had done. She watched as he helped Dum Dum up and got back in position as Gabe came up.

He hit the mat even faster, as did Falsworth after him followed by Jim.

Bucky, who wasn't even sweating, grinned and settled back again. "Tell you what? Let's make it sporting. I'll take two of you at a time."

Without having to be convinced, Dum Dum and Falsworth charged him. Bucky fended them off with seeming ease, ducking their blows and dodging their charges as if they were moving in slow motion.

A suspicion started to form in Stephanie's mind. It was one that had lightly been gnawing at the edges of her mind on and off for some time, and one that brought a twisting curl of fear at the implications.  

Bucky bounced lightly on the balls of his feet while the rest of her team conferred just off the mat.

Then, in one lighting quick movement, they all spun and charged Bucky at once with matching war cries that justified the Howling part of their name.

Bucky took every one of them down.

Stephanie watched in mute horror, the suspicion in her mind crystallizing into sharp fear, as Bucky dealt with five adult, male soldiers as if they were little more than a minor irritation.

He hit Falsworth particularly hard on accident, sending the man flipping end over end before he flew right off the mat and sprawled on the floor.

Stephanie felt her temper flare, for more than one reason. "Bucky! Stop breaking my men!"

Bucky turned to look at her and Stephanie found herself slipping her shoes and socks off and walking onto the mat to face him, her eyes snapping with fire at the knowledge that he'd spent the last few _months_ apparently lying to her.  

"What are you waiting for?" she challenged, raising her hands and clenching them into fists. "You haven't defeated all the Commandos yet."

"That's right, Cap," Dum Dum said, from where he'd gotten up and was now standing with the other Commandos. Thankfully none of them looked the worse for wear, Falsworth had an arm wrapped around his stomach but gave her a reassuring look in return for her worried one. "You show him."

Stephanie hesitated. If she was about to prove what she thought she was...

"Why don't you guys head back to the Mess Hall? We'll meet up with you later."

Dum Dum raised an eyebrow and several of them exchanged looks.

"Sure, Cap," he drawled. "No problem. You kids have fun."

They sauntered out, throwing amused or knowing looks over their shoulders as they did and Stephanie resisted the urge to roll her eyes. They were all getting entirely the wrong idea.

Once they were gone she faced Bucky and raised an eyebrow, hands still up. "Well?"

His eyes narrowed. "You sure you want to do this?"

"You going to tell me the truth if I don't?" she threw back.

"Probably not," he said flatly.

"Then there's your answer."

His expression changed to a mixture of annoyance and resignation but he came forward obediently. The first punch he threw at her was downright insulting. Stephanie countered it with more force than she ever would have used on one of her other men. She caged his arm in hers like she'd been shown in training and used his own momentum to flip him. In the real world, against an enemy soldier, she'd have snapped the arm in the process. With him, she adjusted her hold, ensuring the only thing injured was his ego. She was mad at him but there existed no scenario under which she would ever hurt him, or want to see him hurt.

He hit the mat hard and rolled, coming up on his feet with his back to her. She waited and he turned to face her again, going back into a defensive stance. He didn't seem to even realize the kind of force she'd used on him.

He figured it out quickly with her second attack, which was harder than the first, and knew it with certainty by the third. For Stephanie, it soon became obvious that Bucky could withstand whatever force she used against him and, for the first time since she'd been enhanced, she didn't hold back.

Instead she sent a foot toward his face. He ducked it and went to tackle her only for her to spin out of his way. As he went past she lashed out with a back kick that knocked him off balance and sent him falling sideways onto the mat.

"Stay down," she ordered.

He rolled, and leapt easily to his feet again. "Like hell."

Stephanie shrugged. "Your loss."

He smirked at her. "You sure about that?"

Stephanie responded by swinging at him. He blocked it and then they were on again, fighting their way across the mat. At one point Stephanie misjudged where the edge was and her foot went off, throwing her off balance. She started to fall backwards, only to have Bucky grab her arm and wrench her back onto the mat. She stumbled into him, her hands braced on his chest.

"Thanks," she said, then proceeded to hook a foot around his ankle and jerk it forward. He fell, but automatically grabbed her as he went down. Stephanie managed to twist as she went down so that, instead of landing on him, she landed beside him.

In retrospect, this was probably the wrong decision.

She started to try and get up only to have him roll toward her and tangle his legs with hers, knocking her off balance again. She went down and suddenly he was kneeling over top of her. He grabbed her hands, intertwining their fingers and pressed them to the mat on either side of her head. Stephanie immediately tried to knee him but he'd set himself so that she couldn't get a good angle and just managed to flail about wildly.

She finally settled for glaring at him. They'd both fought until they were exhausted and panting. The front of Bucky's shirt was drenched and Stephanie's hair was sticking to her neck while beads of sweat trickled down the sides of her face.

They stayed like that for several minutes until Stephanie's heart rate had slowed to closer to normal, for her anyway, and Bucky's breathing had slowed to a regular rhythm.  

"Something you'd like to share, Sergeant Barnes?" she asked finally when it became apparent he was waiting for her.

"Not particularly," he replied shortly, his eyes flashing with clear defiance.  

Stephanie tugged her hands and he released her and got up. He held out his hand and she grabbed it, allowing him to pull her to her feet. "I want to talk to you in private, now."

"We are in private," he said, his words clipped.

"More private," she retorted, "where someone isn't likely to walk in any second."

He studied her. "Fine." He said finally.

"Fine." Stephanie agreed.

Bucky spun on one heel and stalked over to the bench to grab his shirt, jacket and tie, crumpling them in one hand. While he did Stephanie retrieved her shoes and socks and pulled them on quickly.

Once he had, Stephanie turned and headed for the exit. Behind her, Bucky followed in silence.

***

Stephanie took him to her quarters as it was the only place she knew of that would guarantee total privacy.

As they walked, and then stood in stony silence in the elevator, her mind played through exactly what she already knew he was going to say.

She was a hypocrite, getting angry at him for holding out on her when she'd done the exact same thing to him.

Except it wasn't the same, she insisted to herself. Her serum had been perfected and given in a closely monitored environment. Whatever they'd done to him, and she had no doubt what it had been, could only have been based off the bastardized formula in Schmidt's blood.

The one that had made his damn _face_ fall off.

She wiped her hands over her face as the elevator door opened again to let her out on the level where her quarters were. The sweat had dried on her face and the air in the corridor was cooler than expected as she walked out into it. Beside her, Bucky offered her his uniform jacket and she took it and pulled it on, frowning at him as she did.

"I'm fine," he said. "It's not that cold. You're just a wimp."

"Jerk," she muttered and he shrugged.

"Better than a punk."

Stephanie crossed her arms, her mind in chaos as it ran through a multitude of emotions, the chief of which was fear.

She could have saved him only to lose him again. He could have died in his sleep with her right next to him that night in the woods, could have been gone in the Healing Tents when she'd been kept from him, could have dropped dead at _any_ moment.

He still could for all she knew. Drop dead, have his face melt off, or any number of other horrific injuries or side effects.

She was supposed to be _protecting_ him. How the hell could she do that if he wasn't telling her everything?

She reached her door and pulled her key out, sliding it into the lock.

Her hand was shaking.

Bucky reached past her to grab the handle and push the door open, allowing her to enter first before he came in and shut the door behind him.

The click of the lock made her flinch. She watched as Bucky tossed his shirt and tie on her chair, her mind presenting her an even more horrifying scenario as he did.  

Hydra had destroyed the weapons' facility after she'd attacked it.  

She imagined they'd gotten everything they could out first but it was as if she'd sent them a notice of when she was going to do it, or politely let them have time to clear out. There'd been no hint of them attempting the experiments again which suggested it was quite possible the necessary files and formulas had been destroyed or contaminated in the destruction. That, in turn, meant _Bucky_ was all they had left to try and figure out which of their formulas had succeeded. Bucky, who'd already drawn attention by being associated with her, both as a member of her team and as the Soldier, always seen at her side in her new propaganda material.

Had Hydra not realized who he was, or were they just biding their time?

She spun to face him and he snapped his mouth shut on whatever he'd been planning to say, the fire in his eyes already banking at whatever he was seeing in hers. "Steph?"

"You let me take you back to them," Stephanie said in slowly dawning horror. "Why would you do that?"

He frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"You let me take you back to them!" she repeated, her voice rising. "What if they had recognized you? What if they'd been waiting? Realized you weren't dead and that whatever the _hell_ they did to you must have worked? Do you have _any_ idea how much danger you put yourself in? You could have been captured again, Bucky, and it would have been because I walked you right into their _goddamn arms_!"

"You wouldn't have walked me anywhere," Bucky retorted, his voice tense. "I walked myself, Steph. My choice."

"And that makes it better?" Stephanie asked incredulously. "You'd have been gone either way!"

"You'd be the one to know," Bucky said sharply, "did it being your choice make it better when you risked getting yourself shot or worse on the chance of getting me out? You've got the perfect form of the serum in your veins and you walked yourself into their arms, and you've done it twice more since!"

"It's not the same--" Stephanie started to say only to have him cut her off.

"It's _exactly_ the same!"

"And you know how you it made you feel!" Stephanie burst out. "How did you think I was going to react?"

A heavy silence fell, broken only by Bucky swearing and turning away from her to slap a hand against the wall. Stephanie flinched at the sound and crossed her arms, tightening her fingers in the thick fabric of his jacket.

Bucky crossed his arms on the wall and dropped his head against them with a sigh. Stephanie went to sit on the end of her bed.

There was nowhere to go with the argument and they both knew it. He'd kept something important from her and she felt angry and betrayed, but she'd gone and done the same thing to him and then _he'd_  been the one angry and betrayed.

She turned her head to study her small desk. The letters from his parents and sister were still there laid out on top.

She and Bucky were supposed to be family. Whether that extended to anything more or not the two of them were _family_ and him leaving her out of his confidence, hiding something so lifechanging and important from her, made her feel like he'd shut her out. It made her feel like she'd gone from being settled in his living room to waiting on his front porch, a stranger hoping to be let inside.

It made her feel...

 

Stephanie's eyes slid closed and her shoulders slumped.

 

Oh.

 

Was _this_ how he'd felt?

 

He'd told her how he felt back then and she'd thought she'd gotten it. He'd felt dismissed by her going against his wishes, patronized by her not letting him into her confidence, not trusted or respected enough to be given the chance to voice his opinion.

She'd told him she'd understood where he was coming from and she'd believed she had...but understanding was far, far different from experiencing it herself.

Everything he'd said to her, didn't it all come down to the same thing, whether he'd spoken the words aloud or not?

"You cut me out," she said softly. He stiffened and turned, his eyes wide, and she continued. "The same way I cut you out." She swallowed, uncrossing her arms to place her hands in her lap, digging her fingers into her pant legs until her knuckles were white. "Hurts like hell, doesn't it?"

"Steph--"

She shook her head and stood up, nervously holding the edges of his jacket close. "We can't keep doing this to each other." She walked over to him, reached up and linked her hands behind his head, pulling him forward until their foreheads were touching. "No matter how well intentioned, Buck, this has to stop. Either we trust each other or we don't."

"You're right." His arms went around her waist, interlocking at the small of her back. "I'm sorry, Steph."

"Me too," she said, nudging his head with her own. She sighed and pulled away enough to look him in the eye. "This is the last time, all right? We both accept we're reckless idiots who make terrible choices but we stop _keeping_ it from one another. No more secrets."

Relief flooded his eyes and he slumped against her with a sigh. Stephanie adjusted her weight to balance him and wrapped her arms around him as his came up into a proper embrace. "No more secrets," he murmured from near her ear. "I swear."

"So do I," Stephanie agreed. "Next time I decide to let scientists experiment on me you'll be the first one to know."

He laughed and drew back to give her an affectionate look. "Agreed. And the next time evil scientists capture me for the same reason you'll be the first to know."

"At which point I'll kick their asses and rescue you, again," Stephanie said, the very thought of Hydra getting their hands on him again bringing a sense of disquiet. He caught the look and frowned.

"You're not going to try and throw me out of the Commandos on some excuse of keeping me safe are you?"

"Of course not," Stephanie muttered. "How can I keep you safe if you're not with me?" The only thing worse than the thought of him being in danger would be the thought of him being in danger without her there. Even if she couldn't do anything to help him she at least wanted to be with him. She grabbed the chain of his dog tags and pulled them out from under his shirt. They fell against his chest and she toyed with them idly, her other arm dropping to wrap securely around his waist. He put an arm around her waist in turn and pulled her in closer. Stephanie obediently tucked herself against his side and rested her head on his shoulder. She continued to play with the tags, sliding them around her fingers and pretending she wasn't doing it in large part so she'd have an excuse to rest her hand on his chest. "When did you realize?"

"I had my suspicions pretty quick," he answered, his voice rumbling through his chest and causing vibrations along her body where it was in contact with his. "I wasn't as cold as I should have been on the way home, could hear and see better than I remembered from before, was healing a lot faster."

"You were in the Healing Tents forever," Stephanie pointed out.

"I didn't need to be. I was afraid of what they'd do if I said anything. And, besides, it was all just a suspicion. I didn't have them confirmed until we got back out in the field."

"And you didn't think to tell anyone?" Stephanie asked, tilting her head enough to look at him. There was no heat to her words. She was merely trying to find out what his thought process had been.

"I was afraid of how it'd impact you." His expression turned dark. "If they had two of us, there'd be no reason not to lock one of us away in a lab and keep the other in the field."

Stephanie froze, his implications clear. "Me," she said shortly. "They wanted a man, now they've got one. You were afraid they'd lock _me_ in a lab." And they would, she realized, especially now. Bucky, as the Solider, was popular back in the States, as popular among women as she was with men from what she'd heard. There were a number of theories, according to her producers, about who he was since, apparently, the notion of him simply being a solider and a member of her Commandos wasn't exciting enough. Some had come up with the idea that he was Captain America and that his death had been faked to allow him to move more freely while Stephanie served as a distraction. The conspiracy theorists pointed to how he'd seemingly come out of nowhere and was clearly very close to her, which would make sense as Lady Liberty had always been close to Captain America. The fact that Bucky didn't physically match Tony's build apparently didn't deter them, the argument being that the costumed had been padded for on stage to make him appear bigger from a distance and that such padding was no longer needed in the field.  

It would be so simple, she thought, to go ahead with that story if the military found out Bucky was enhanced the way she was.  No one would ever have to admit lying to the American public about her and, better yet, no one would ever have to admit to the military being tricked by a woman.

"We can't tell anyone," Bucky said, breaking into her thoughts. "You know it won't be safe."

"For either of us," Stephanie agreed quietly. She'd end up in a lab and Bucky would end up a target. He was already a target simply for being a Commando and having an association with her. If Schmidt ever found out who he was...

She tightened her grip on him, dropping his dog tags to wrap that arm around him as well. "We need to at least tell Howard."

He frowned. "Steph, the more people know--"

"The greater the risk of it getting out," Stephanie agreed. "I get it." She reached up and lightly ran a hand along the side of his face. If Bucky planned to value her safety and health over his own she would just make sure she returned the favor. "Howard worked with Erskine and is the closest thing we have to an expert on the serum." She cupped his face in her hands. "I kind of like your face where it is."

He raised an eyebrow. "I think it'd have already fallen off by now if that was going to be a problem."

"We don't know what the problems could be," Stephanie insisted, "which is why we need to tell someone who might be able to tell us." She grabbed his hand and interlaced their fingers. "I believe we can trust him, Buck. Please?"

She very rarely ever persisted on trying to get him to do something she knew he didn't want to do, mainly because she knew he would almost always say yes if it was her asking, no matter how much he didn't want to do whatever it was, and she didn't want to take advantage of him.

He groaned and released her, stepping away toward the door. "Fine, we'll go let Stark stick me full of needles while pretending not to ogle you."

"He doesn't ogle me," Stephanie said with a frown and he rolled his eyes.

"Right. Did you see that costume he designed for you?"

He grabbed the doorknob, fingers moving toward the lock. What they _should_ do, Stephanie knew, was go with him and head straight to Howard's where they could get Bucky checked out, even though he'd been out of that facility for months with no ill effects.  

That's probably what she _should_ do, just as she should have stayed home, should have never joined the military and certainly should have quietly accepted it when Phillips told her Bucky was gone.

The lock clicked open and Bucky started to turn the knob, pulling the door open as, behind him, Stephanie looked down at her hand.

It was perfectly steady.

She looked up again, and let out a breath.

 

She always had been terrible at doing what she _should_ do.

 

"Bucky, wait."

 

He stopped, in the process of opening the door, and turned to face her. "What's wrong?"

Stephanie hesitated, started to move, stopped, then set herself and moved again. She put her hand over his on the doorknob, pushed the door closed and locked it again. She turned to face him, her back pressed to the door as he was still standing where he'd been when she'd approached.

He made no effort to move back.

She focused on her feet, her nerves getting the best of her. Setting aside the fact it was _Bucky_ it wasn't as if she'd done anything remotely like this before and there wasn't exactly a manual telling her how she was supposed to go about it. "I -- I wanted -- that is --" She hesitated again and then, before she could talk herself out of it, looked up and said, "You won -- back in the training room-- so --" she forced her hands down to her sides, her fingers clenching in near spasms, her face on fire.

Bucky was staring at her with _that_ expression again. The one she'd seen from him a few times now but couldn't place. Before she could ask him about it he stepped forward, bracing his forearms on the door on either side of her and using his body to press her back even more into the wood.

Stephanie sucked in a sharp breath, her face on fire even as her blood started racing in her veins. Bucky leaned forward until his lips were less than an inch away from hers, his eyes focused on her with an intensity that did all sorts of things to her insides.

"With the Lady's permission," he said, repeating the terms Dum Dum had laid out, though with a low voice and a husky quality that made the butterflies inside her a thousand times worse.

"The Lady gives it," she whispered.

He leaned forward and kissed her, the barest press of his lips against hers and then he was pulling away, but just barely.

Stephanie fought to hide a shiver, which he caught judging by the sudden smirk, and raised an eyebrow. "You call that a kiss, Sergeant Barnes?"

He chuckled. "I call that a warm up. I call _this_ a kiss."

He surged back in, his lips claiming hers in a kiss so deep it felt as if all the oxygen had been sucked right out of her lungs. Her legs buckled and she grabbed onto his shirt to hold herself up. He wrapped both arms around her waist and dragged her off the door and up against his body. Stephanie grabbed onto his bicep with one hand and then slid the other around to cup the back of his head, curling her fingers up through strands of his hair.

He shifted as if to pull away, only to laugh against her mouth and come back in when she made a sound of disapproval. Her arm slid from his bicep to around his back, tangling in his shirt and the muscles underneath while his hands went to her hips. He pulled her up against him so close she was forced onto her toes and she wrapped both arms around his neck to keep her balance.

They finally broke off after what seemed like an eternity that still wasn't nearly long enough for Stephanie. Neither attempted to move or let go of the other but simply stood as they were, foreheads touching, the only sound in the room that of them trying to mutually catch their breath. Finally, Stephanie said, "you were holding back at our wedding, you jerk."

He grinned, pleased. "I was worried I'd given myself away as it was."

"Given away what?" she asked, with amusement, "that you married me under false pretenses?"

He pressed her back against the door again and bracketed her in with his forearms on either side. "I married you for exactly the reasons I said I did. Anything else was irrelevant."

"Really?" She'd let go of him when he'd moved and now grabbed his dog tags again in one hand, lightly tugging on them to get him to lean forward and kiss her. He did, excruciatingly slowly. When it ended, instead of moving away he simply shifted to kiss her along her jawline and then down to the column of her throat. Stephanie arched her head back against the door to give him better access and continued to hold onto his dog tags. "And the fact that you knew me well enough to know I'd most likely stay faithful and not start another relationship, even in a fake marriage, had nothing to do with it?"

He lifted his head to kiss her again. "That might have been a bonus," he admitted and she laughed. She let go of his tags and he drew back, still resting on his forearms.

"Everyone kept telling me, but I didn't believe them." Stephanie said, her eyes narrowed. "You never said anything."

"You weren't interested," he said reasonably. "And I didn't want to make a mess of what we already had."

"You dated other girls," Stephanie added, throwing out the other point that had made it so difficult for her to accept he felt anything other than friendship for her.

"I thought I could get over you." He kissed her again and started to break off only to stop mid-action and come back in as if it were physically impossible for him to do anything else. "I should have known better," he said finally, his eyes back on hers. "There is no getting over Stephanie Rogers."

"Stephanie Barnes," Stephanie corrected, mentally adding a thank God. She didn't know what she would have done if she'd come over only to find Bucky had met someone else. Spent her whole life in mourning without ever knowing why, most likely.

They stayed where they were, staring into one another's eyes like lovesick idiots, before Stephanie finally said, without thinking, "I should have checked when Peggy's bet was. We could have coordinated."

"The 19th," Bucky said immediately. "She's going to lose by two days." He grinned at her. "She's going to be _pissed"_

Stephanie gaped at him. "You knew about the pool?"

He rolled his eyes. "Darling, _everyone_ knows about the damn pool."

Stephanie shut her eyes with a groan and dropped her head against his chest. "You knew my feelings had changed and you _still_ didn't say anything? Do you know how much agony I was in?"

"I have a pretty good idea," Bucky said dryly. "I didn't believe it at first, figured it was too good to be true and I was imagining things that weren't there. After I realized it _was_ real I was trying to give you space to sort yourself out."

"Even though you know me well enough to know I'd drive myself crazy with all the what ifs and maybes?" Stephanie asked.

 He put a finger under her jaw and lifted her head to give her a slow, lingering kiss, followed by three more. "I wasn't going to wait forever without saying something," he said softly. "I've waited years for you. I could wait a little longer." His eyes suddenly took on a concerned look. "And that includes now. We can go as slow or as fast as you want, Steph."

Stephanie gave him an exasperated look. Then she very calmly grabbed his arms and shoved him backwards. He stumbled several feet only to be promptly shoved by her again. This time his legs hit the edge of her bed and he tumbled backwards, landing on his back on the mattress. He pushed up to brace himself on his elbows and brought a leg up, in the process of getting himself into a sitting position.  

Before he could Stephanie climbed onto the bed and threw a leg over his waist, bending her legs underneath her and settling with her knees on either side of him, holding herself up so only a small amount of her weight was resting across his hips. It was a close reversal of their positions from the training room, a fact which did not escape him going by the amused look in his eyes.

She leaned forward, planting one hand on the mattress and then grabbed his dog tags with the other, tangling her fingers back in the chain. "You," she said slowly and carefully, her voice breathy again the way it had been in the lab, "are quite often an idiot." She kissed him lightly, but pulled back before he could deepen it. "But I love you anyway." She tugged on the tags and he rose up higher on his elbows while she bent down to meet him halfway in a kiss so intense it had her toes curling in her boots.

When it was over, he dropped back to lay flat on the mattress. He put his hands on either side of her waist and then, slowly and carefully, rolled her off him and onto the mattress beside him. He pushed up and then was braced over her, resting on his forearms and knees.

"I love you too, punk," he said, before leaning down to capture her mouth with his.

Stephanie put her hands on his arms, lifting her fingers so only her palms were in contact. She trailed them slowly up his arms, and over the sculpted muscles of his biceps, finally ending by linking them behind his neck.

She could feel his dogs tag resting on her chest and pulled her own out from under her shirt. She tangled them together with his, holding them in one hand as he shifted position, to rest more of his weight on her.  

He had said there was no getting over her and she could say with absolute certainty the feeling was mutual.

She was in love with James Buchanan Barnes and there was no coming back from it, not now, not ever.

And that was just fine with her.


	22. Chapter 22

Stephanie finished towel drying her hair and straightened, flipping the still damp mass behind her. She gathered it up and secured it into its standard high ponytail and then kicked the towel out of the way beside the toilet.

She slid her shoes on, tugged the hem of her shirt to straighten it and then went back into the main room.

Bucky was sprawled on his back in her bed, sound asleep. He had one arm under the pillow and the other draped across the blankets, which were tangled at his waist. He still had his dog tags on as Stephanie had decided she liked how they looked on him.   

Stephanie leaned against the wall across from him and watched him, chewing idly on her thumbnail as she did. He looked so much younger when he was asleep. Hell, he _was_ young. They both were, a fact she managed to forget at times and sincerely hoped her detractors always forgot. To them it was bad enough she was a woman, realizing she was barely in her twenties would not help her case.

Her eyes focused on Bucky's chest as it rose and fell in even breaths. Bucky. James Buchanan Barnes. Her best friend, and her _husband_.

She was _married._

Granted, she'd technically _been_ married but it had never seemed real before. For the most part she hadn't thought about it, had managed to forget it entirely a time or two. The marriage hadn't even been legitimate. They had gotten the license and done the ceremony but she hadn't meant her vows and the marriage had never been consummated.  

Now...now she was married.

She had a husband, and he was someone who'd been by her side her entire life.

Huh.

She pushed off the wall and approached the bed. She wound around the end of it and climbed onto the mattress next to her husband. She laid down with her head on his chest and one hand resting lightly just over his heart.  It beat steadily under her hand and she relaxed, allowing her eyes to close.

She wasn't sure how long she dozed before the sound of a knock at the door startled her. Her eyes snapped open and she gasped in surprise, her heart jolting in her chest.

"What's wrong?" Bucky's voice asked, moving instantly from asleep to wide awake.

"Someone at the door," Stephanie said, still trying to orient herself. She pushed up, keeping her hand on his chest and looked down at him. "Go answer it."

He raised an eyebrow, one hand coming up to lazily play with loose tendrils of her hair. "Why do I have to answer it? You're the one dressed."

Stephanie leaned down and kissed him, quite slowly and very thoroughly. She felt his arm slide under the hem of her shirt, his fingers splaying across her lower back and causing her skin to tingle where he was touching her.  

She broke off and kissed him on the tip of his nose. "Up. Door. Answer."

Bucky groaned in resignation and rolled his eyes. He nudged her off him and flung the blankets off. Stephanie saw him grimace as the colder air of the room hit him and he rolled quickly to sit on the edge of the bed, reaching down to grab his pants off the floor. "Anyone ever mention you're bossy?"

He stood up, pulling his pants up and buckling his belt. Stephanie let herself fall onto the mattress. She yawned and stretched, arching her back and linking her hands over her head. "Anyone ever mention you're distracting when you're naked?"

He laughed, and grinned at her. He headed for the door and Stephanie started to relax, her eyes drifting closed again.

A split second later they snapped open as realization hit. She sat up and frantically hissed, "Wait! Stop!"

Bucky froze and frowned. "What?"

Stephanie scrambled off the bed and gathered the rest of his clothes and shoes off the floor. She shoved them into his hands, grabbed his arms and pushed him back to the far wall where the door would block sight of him when it opened. "This is _my_ room!"

"You just realized that?" he asked dryly. "Who cares?"

"I care, _James_ ," she said, scandalized. "I can't let people see you here!"

He gave her an incredulous look but stayed put when she let go of him and went back to the door. She unlocked it and pulled it open just a crack to peer out.

A scrawny, very young man stood there looking nervous. When he saw her, his eyes went wide and he froze. "Um -- hi!" he said nervously. "Um -- ma'am -- I mean -- Lady Liberty --- sir --- ma'am -- um--"

Stephanie leaned out further to look down the hall. At the far end, she spotted three other young men clustered together watching intently. She vaguely recognized them from around the base. She didn't recognize the young man who'd knocked.

"I -- was wondering--" the young man continued, "if maybe -- I mean -- if you'd like to -- um--"

"I'm sorry," Stephanie said, cutting him off and putting him out of his misery. She started to say something else, she wasn't sure what yet, when the young man's face positively crumpled and his shoulders slumped. Down the hall, the jerks who'd put him up to it started snickering.

Stephanie scowled. Then she stepped out, grabbed the young man's face between her hands and very carefully kissed him on the forehead. When she stepped back he looked like he was about to faint and the ones at the end of the hallway looked stunned. Stephanie sent them a pointed look, smiled at the young man and then very deliberately stepped back inside her room and shut her door again, locking it behind her.

"That sort of thing happen often?" Bucky asked mildly. Stephanie turned to respond and sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of him leaning back against her wall, arms crossed. He'd put the clothes she'd shoved at him back on the ground and was clearly having far too much fun with her reaction.

"Not often," Stephanie said, listening to the sound of the young man leaving. "Most of the time they're too scared to follow through with the dare so I might hear about it but that's about it." She shrugged. "You know how I feel about bullies."

It was not the first time a young man had been dared to ask her for a drink, breakfast, or a dance. For the sake of Bucky not spending the day getting into fistfights, she decided not to mention that, a few times, the knock on her door had been a soldier looking for, and often outright expecting, a liaison. She'd gotten the same sort of treatment when she'd been solely Lady Liberty. The assumption that she was a certain kind of woman hadn't changed just because she was now allowed to fight.

She'd joined the army, whether they acknowledged her or not, and chose to spend her time surrounded by men. It wasn't the role society expected of her. History had never been kind to women who refused to know their place and things hadn't changed for her because she was a super soldier.  

"Wait a second," Bucky broke into her thoughts, his eyes narrowed. "Did you call me James a moment ago?"

Stephanie gave him an innocent look. "That is your full name, isn't it?" The fact she'd been using it the same way his parents had as a child when he'd gotten into trouble, usually thanks to her; was entirely beside the point.

Suddenly he was stalking right toward her. Stephanie's eyes widened and she started to move back only to have him grab her around the waist and lift her right off her feet.

"What are you doing?" she asked in surprise, grabbing his shoulders to balance herself.

He smirked and then let himself fall forward, eliciting a gasp of surprise from her. She hit the mattress on her back and he knelt over top of her, balanced on his knees to keep his weight off. He gave her a wicked smile and leaned down to put his mouth next to her ear. "My name," he said carefully, his hands trailing along her body to finally come to rest on her waist, "is _Bucky_."

Belatedly, Stephanie realized the downside to being in love with your lifelong, best friend.

They knew all your secrets, among them the fact that Stephanie had always been wildly sensitive to being tickled.

His fingers dug into her side and she shrieked with laughter, arching her back to try and get away from him. He removed one hand and slid it around her waist but kept the other where it was. She felt his mouth on her throat even as his other hand continued to try to tickle her to death.

"Bucky!" she gasped out, reaching down to grab at his hand even while she continued laughing. "Stop it, you jerk!" Her free arm wrapped around his back and she pulled her body up against his, digging her fingers into the muscles of his back.  She lifted her leg and slid her knee up between his legs, just above his knees, then slid her fingers into his hair and tugged insistently on the strands. Bucky raised his head and gave her a pointed look and she gave him what she hoped was a threatening one in return. It was probably not helped by the fact he was still lightly tickling her, his fingers barely trailing back and forth along her waist, and she was still laughing.

"You wouldn't," Bucky said, kissing her. "You'd only be hurting yourself."

Stephanie giggled. "Pretty sure I'd be hurting you more." He kissed her again and she did her best to kiss him back while still laughing. "It's not my fault your stance is too wide. Maybe you should spend more time in the training room. Just think if you'd left yourself this exposed when fighting Hydra."

"My _stance_ is fine," Bucky growled. "And I shudder to think what possible circumstance could lead to me being in this sort of danger when fighting Hydra."

He stopped tickling her finally and grabbed her free hand to pin it to the mattress, interlacing their fingers as he did. Stephanie gasped for air, slowly recovering. Bucky cleared his throat and Stephanie grinned at him and slowly lowered her leg back to the mattress. Bucky smirked and kissed her again. "Much better."

Stephanie tried to respond but was still recovering and could only glare at him as she waited for her breathing and heart rate to return to normal.

Finally, she freed her hand from his and pushed on him. "Up," she ordered. "Shower, then Howard."

He gave her an exasperated look but obeyed, getting up and grabbing her hand to help her up. Once she was on her feet he pulled her against him and, in a downright suggestive tone of voice, said "how about shower, _then_ Mess Hall and then Howard?"

Stephanie gave him a pointed look, freed herself and retrieved the rest of his clothes again. She shoved them into his arms and pushed him toward the bathroom. "I already took a shower," she said, trying her best not to sound disappointed, "and we can go to the Mess Hall, _after_ we talk to Howard and make sure your face isn't going to fall off."

"Bossy," he muttered with affection. He headed into the bathroom and Stephanie wandered in after him, watching as he turned on the shower, undressed and got in. He left the door to the shower open and Stephanie frowned as spray drifted out.

"You're going to slip and break your neck when you get out," she groused, grabbing a towel and throwing it on the floor to soak up the water.

"You should put another on there," Bucky said helpfully from the shower, pointing at the ground at his feet just outside the door.

Stephanie gave him a suspicious look but nudged the towel she'd tossed on the floor closer to the shower door. "They should include mats in here."

"They really should," Bucky agreed. He turned his head up into the spray and ran his hands through his hair. He was really, _really_ distracting, Stephanie thought with annoyance. She got the towel in place about a foot outside the door of the shower and saw him give it a critical look. "Do you think that's close enough? There's still a gap." He grinned at her. "I'd hate to fall, Darling. You'd have to go get help."

"I'm strong enough to lift you and you know it," Stephanie grumbled. Still, she _didn't_ want him to get hurt so she nudged the towel closer, fitting it up against the edge of the shower. She gave Bucky a critical look and he looked back steadily, his expression innocent. Stephanie chewed on her lower lip a second and then, very carefully, inched just a _little_ bit closer.

His arm shot out and caught her wrist, jerking her forward and off balance. Then, before she could recover, he snagged her around the waist and dragged her, fully clothed, into the shower.

Stephanie made a sound somewhere between a shriek and a laugh as she stumbled in, grabbing his arms to steady herself. He braced her easily as she got her balance, water already soaking through her clothing. "I'm going to have to change now, you know," she said with mock irritation. His arms had gone around her and she held onto them just at the base of his biceps.

"Yes," he said dryly, leaning in to kiss her. "I can see how upset you are."

Stephanie giggled and threw her arms around his neck, leaning forward to return the kiss.

She could get used to this.

***

It was quite a bit later that Stephanie found herself leaning back against Bucky in Howard's lab watching the other man intently study a slide through a microscope.  When she'd dragged Bucky down they had found Howard already up and hard at work on whatever his latest invention was. Once they had, quietly, explained to him what was going on he had promptly kicked his assistants out and locked the lab down, claiming he needed to run some tests on Stephanie. She could only imagine what people might think but, so long as they were focused on her and not Bucky, she didn't much care.

Howard had put Bucky through just about every test he could think of and some Stephanie was fairly sure he'd made up on the spot. Now he'd been staring at a blood sample for so long it was making her downright uncomfortable. Bucky, who had his arms around her waist, squeezed in reassurance and she gripped his forearms in response.

At the table, Howard lifted his head finally and pushed back from the desk. Stephanie and Bucky both straightened.

"Congratulations," Howard said, looking stunned. "It would appear the SSR has a second super soldier at its disposal."

"And what about side effects?" Stephanie asked, before Bucky could. "Are there any signs of those?"

"The serum they injected him with isn't all that different from yours from what I can tell," Howard said, "which makes sense considering it was no doubt based off Erskine's early version that was used on Schmidt." He frowned. "From what I can see it appears perfectly stable. We'll need to continue monitoring him of course but, given how long its already been and the fact the serum has been stable the entire time, I don't foresee any issues."

Stephanie sagged in relief.

"If that's the case," Bucky said, "then why do you look unhappy about it?"

Howard picked up the slide from the microscope. "Because this is proof that Hydra managed to perfect Erskine's formula." He nodded at Bucky, "and used it to create a super solider of their own."

"So why don't they have an army of them?" Bucky asked, his own expression darkening.

"Because they don't know," Stephanie said, her voice flat. It was exactly what she'd been afraid of, what she'd said to Bucky in her room and having her line of reasoning confirmed by someone else did not make her feel any better. "The fact they haven't recreated it, even by accident, suggests they may have lost most or all of their research in the weapons facility." She fixed Bucky with a look. "That's what I was saying, Buck. Forget about them putting me in a lab once they realize they have a male super solider. If Schmidt finds out about you-"

"He'll know he had the right formula," Howard said, clearly having already followed the line of reasoning to its logical, and rather horrifying, conclusion. "Which means Zola had the right formula."

Stephanie tensed at the name of Hydra's top weapons scientist. She still wished there had been some way to catch him when she'd unknowingly seen him, twice, at the facility but, ultimately, it had come down to choosing between Zola and Bucky. Even _had_ she known who he was at the time she still would have chosen Bucky. It didn't matter what the choice entailed, if it involved Bucky she would _always_ choose him.

"We're fortunate that Zola barely saw the prisoners as human," Howard continued. "I doubt he bothered to look at Sergeant Barnes long enough to remember him." He hesitated. "The problem, however, is that he _did_ look at him and, if by chance, he happens to see him and his memory is jogged--"

"He'll come after him," Stephanie said, her blood running cold.

"Even worse," Howard said. "I highly doubt Zola allowed all his research to go up in flames at that facility. If he realizes one of his formulas worked it's highly possible he'll be able to pinpoint it and recreate the thing."

"And then we get an army of super soldiers gunning right for us," Bucky said, his voice tight. His eyes narrowed. "What do we do about it? They'll either lock Steph up and try to replace her with me--"

"Or they'll lock you up to keep you away from Hydra," Stephanie finished. "At the very least the more who know the greater the risk of it getting out which means--"

"We're screwed on multiple fronts," Bucky growled. He leaned forward on one of the lab tables, his fingers digging into the edge. "So, what the hell do we do about it?"

"We keep you out of the fighting for one thing," Stephanie said immediately. "You're a sniper anyway. I should have been using you in that capacity from the start. We hold you back and let you provide cover. You'll still be there so Schmidt won't wonder where you went but he may just start to get fuzzy on your face."

"Aside from the posters I'm on," Bucky said dryly and Stephanie shrugged.

"There's nothing we can do about the ones that have already gone out but I can put in a word with the producers, convince them that upping your mystique will increase your popularity, and their sales. Any future posters can have you further in the background, in heavier shadow." If they were very, _very_ lucky, Schmidt might dismiss Bucky as little more than a mundane pretty boy the army was using to sell bonds, much as they had originally done with her. She and the Commandos had only taken two bases so far and Bucky hadn't done anything to stand out more than anyone else in either of those fights. If she kept him back, and pushed his identity as the Soldier harder than his identity as a Commando, it was just possible they could convince Schmidt that Bucky was little more than a propaganda piece. She made a mental note to talk to Peggy once the other woman returned about spreading rumors that the Soldier wasn't even a true Commando, that another man was sent in his place while he was held back to protect his status as a symbol.  

"All right," Bucky agreed, his arms crossed and his eyes narrowed. "I don't like it, but I get it."

Howard nodded. "And, meanwhile, I'll casually mention to Phillips that we should focus on capturing Zola. Take away Hydra's facilities and main weapons manufacturer and I'd say that'd be a pretty good day for all of us."

Stephanie nodded. "That's a good idea." She focused on Bucky. "We need to finish the rest of those bases. The sooner they're gone the safer you'll be."

Bucky pushed off the table he was leaning against and stepped forward to lightly grab her hips and pull her forward to press his forehead against hers. "The safer we'll both be."

Stephanie tensed, catching the raised eyebrow Howard was sending at them. She pulled back and grabbed Bucky's hand. "I need to talk to you, in private." She smiled at Howard. "Be right back."

With that she pulled Bucky into the storage room Peggy had dragged her into back when she'd had her try on Howard's alternative Lady Liberty costume. It was a much tighter fit as Bucky was quite a bit bigger than Peggy but Stephanie managed to get them both in and shut the door.

"What?" Bucky asked, as soon as the door shut, "and don't you dare start off with some misguided notion that we need to stay away from each other for our own safety. It doesn't make sense when everyone already knows about us and--" he hesitated and then moved to wrap his arms around her, pressing his forehead back to hers in the process. "I can't do it," he whispered. "Not now. Maybe before I could have -- but there's no way in hell I can keep away from you."

"I know," Stephanie said. She looped her arms around his neck and pushed up into a kiss, letting him pull her up on her toes as he dragged her closer. When she broke off he didn't move, keeping her against him and she linked her hands and cupped the back of his head. "I wouldn't be able to stay away either. I'm not asking that."

"Okay," he said slowly, his eyes still narrowed in suspicion. "Then what? What's wrong with me holding you in front of Howard?"

Stephanie chewed on her lower lip and let out a breath, knowing in advance exactly how he was going to react to her next statement. "It wasn't that, it was what you might have said after." She nudged his forehead with hers and moved her hands to his upper arms. The position was awkward and forced her to arch her back a bit but she managed. "We can't tell anyone we're married," she said in a rush, meeting his eyes nervously. "Not with Hydra still a threat. If Schmidt finds out he's going to slap a massive target on your back and you know it."

Bucky blinked in confusion, clearly trying to figure out what she was doing. "I don't get it," he said slowly. "What difference does it make? Everyone already--" His eyes widened as realization struck. "No. Absolutely not."

"Bucky," Stephanie said with a sigh. "It's for the best and you know it. It's not like my reputation is going to suffer for it. You've heard what they say about me, and that was before I even had you back."

He shook his head, releasing her and moving unconsciously to stand between her and the door as if he could someone protect her from the lies of idle minds if he physically stood in her. "No one's stupid enough to say anything in earshot but I've heard," he said flatly. His eyes flickered up to meet hers. "I saw the looks you were getting too, when we came down here this morning."

Stephanie sighed. She'd known it was probably futile but had held out a slim hope that he hadn't noticed. Just because everyone knew about the pool didn't mean they were all a part of it, or that they all approved of it. There were plenty who looked as Bucky as just another in what must be a long list of conquests for Lady Liberty. A married idiot she'd use until she tired of him and moved on. Nothing substantive or serious, and certainly not anything Schmidt would be concerned about. At least that was Stephanie's hope. Her husband, the man she loved enough to bind herself to before God and man...that man would draw attention. The married man she was playing with until something better came along? Who cared about him?

That morning when they'd left her room, as discreetly as possible but not without notice, she'd seen the looks she'd gotten. Bucky had gotten a few of his own but, for the most part, men were forgiven more than women on such matters.  A man was lonely, or following his instincts or a million other excuses. A woman, particularly one who'd already proven to be unnatural...was given no quarter. As far as some were concerned she was simply verifying every rumor that had ever been spoken about her, and now she was telling Bucky she had no intention of fighting it, was going to encourage it in fact.

"It's just words," she said now, "and just looks. I don't care what anyone thinks. The ones who matter know the truth." It was what Tony had said to her and it was the truth, but she would be lying if she didn't admit it left her unsettled. Particularly with someone like Hodge around. He'd already been spreading rumors and now she'd be handing him all the ammunition he could ever want. She could only imagine the sorts of things he would be spreading to Peggy and Howard and others while she was off fighting Hydra and unable to defend herself.  

Bucky cursed and then he was wrapping his arms around her in a tight embrace. "We'll tell Howard," he said, his voice firm, "and the rest of the Commandos."

Stephanie looked up, ready to argue, but he cut her off before she could. "You said the Commandos already know about us being married and kept it quiet and we trusted Howard enough to tell him I'm a super soldier. If we've trusted them this far, there's no reason not to trust them with the rest." He frowned. "I also think we should tell Peggy. Knowing her, she'd find out anyway. This way we'll manage to avoid her killing us."

Stephanie studied him and then, for once, simply smiled and relaxed, letting any possible counterargument slip away. "Okay." She sighed and dropped her head on his shoulder. "What about your family? And everyone back home?" To be honest, she wasn't all _that_ worried about Bucky's family. They never mentioned Lady Liberty in their letters, and she never brought it up but they had also never failed to treat her the same as always. The ones she really wondered about were her friends and neighbors back home, what they must think about her, and the rumors, and how welcome she might be one day when, and if, she finally made it home.

"My family, and everyone back home," Bucky said dryly, "know, or think they know, that I'm not married. They probably figure it's either outright wrong or some sort of propaganda thing." He lightly grabbed her jaw and raised her head to look at her. "They also know you're not that kind of girl. If they don't, well, we'll get to sit back and watch them eat crow after they find out the truth."

Stephanie smiled at that thought and Bucky released her, reaching for the doorknob. "You know," he said casually, as he grabbed it, "technically, today is our first official day of being married. You know what that means?"

"What?" Stephanie asked with a frown.

Bucky grinned at her. "It means we're now on our honeymoon. What do you say we spending it kicking Hydra's ass?"

Stephanie laughed and grabbed his hand, letting him shove the door open and blinking as the bright light of the lab hit her in the face. "I thought you'd never ask."

 


	23. Chapter 23

Howard took the news about their marriage surprisingly well, simply rolling his eyes and muttering something about idiots who liked to make things more complicated than they needed to be.

The Commandos, in turn, were thrilled to learn about Bucky's status. Having one superhuman on their team was great, having two was even better. They understood the need for secrecy as well and Stephanie was confident she could trust them, and Howard.

There was one other positive about the whole thing. Stephanie thought of it a few days later and, upon next spotting her husband, proceeded to drag him into the nearest dark corner. He took that as an invitation, which it _sort_ of was, and it was several long moments before Stephanie remembered she hadn't pulled him over for an impromptu make out session, however enjoyable said session might be.

"Who won the pool?" she finally managed to gasp out once she'd convinced him, begrudgingly, to stop his _very_ thorough exploration of her mouth and neck.

"Pool?" Bucky repeated blankly. He was breathing hard and his pupils were blown, a clear sign she might have let things get just a _little_ out of hand.

Stephanie wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her forehead against his. "The pool," she repeated carefully, "who won it?"

"Oh, that pool," Bucky said finally, his breathing returning to something approximating normal. "Higgins, I think."

"Great," Stephanie said, kissing him lightly. "Make sure you get a cut."

Bucky raised an eyebrow. "Do what now?"

"A cut," Stephanie repeated brightly. "He only made money thanks to us, right? I think it's only fair we should get some of it."

Bucky chuckled and kissed her, hard. "I married a mercenary. I like it."

"You knew that before you married me," Stephanie said, unrepentant, "or did you honestly believe I got better deals at the grocer's than you did simply because I was cuter?"

Bucky considered and then shrugged. "Could have gone either way."

Stephanie shook her head in mock despair and started to push past him to head to the training room. Before she could he blocked her, pressing his hands to the wall on either side of her and leaning in to kiss her again.

Stephanie relaxed and lightly grabbed the front of his shirt with just her fingertips, tugging him in closer.

The training room would still be there in another five minutes...or ten.

***

They were sent out on their next mission before Peggy returned from hers so there was no chance to tell her the news before they left. Stephanie could only imagine the sorts of rumors the other woman might hear and sincerely hoped Howard would set the record straight on a few of the more outlandish rumors that had cropped up. Even though they were married she and Bucky had tried to remain discrete, knowing what people already thought, but they had both chosen to still see each other and it was impossible to hide every interaction. The news that she was now clearly in a relationship with a married man had added fuel to the proverbial flames, as she'd suspected would happen, and the rumor mill had lost its collective mind. One of the more outlandish rumors Stephanie had heard was that she was apparently sleeping with not just Bucky but with all the Commandos, simultaneously. Where they thought she got that kind of time and stamina, super soldier or not, she didn't know but she was glad to be sent out before Bucky, or one of her men, finally lost their self-control and punched someone.

Or before _she_ lost her self-control and punched several someones.

The next base, as with the ones before it, was in a wooded area, a fact that never failed to work in their favor. Stephanie supposed the location helped camouflage the base from possible aerial attacks and made it difficult to reach but it was also a great help for her and her men to cover their approach.

As with the second base, Phillips gave her a much larger unit that would come in behind after she and the Commandos cleared a path in.

"Wait for our signal," Stephanie told the unit commander after they'd reached a safe location inside the forest, some distance from the base. "We'll open the door for you."

"Yes, ma'am," the commander, a lanky middle aged man who could care less what Stephanie's gender was or what she did in her free time so long as she could carry her own in the field, said with an easy nod. "Any idea on what the signal will be?"

"Not yet," Stephanie responded, "but, don't worry, we'll make sure you can't miss it."

That was agreeable to him so, with nothing else to do, Stephanie set out for the base with her men falling in behind her. Bucky walked several paces to her right, rifle slung over his shoulder and attention focused on the task ahead. They'd agreed that, in the field, they weren't husband and wife but simply Lady Liberty and Sergeant James Barnes. That he was her second was not in question but, outside that distinction, he was another of her Howling Commandos, no more and no less. To treat him as anything more important could cause a lack of trust from her men, and eventual resentment from Bucky if he felt she was coddling him.

They reached a small hill just before the base and crouched below it, listening to the sounds of machinery and vehicles moving past just yards beyond them. Stephanie gave Bucky a look and he nodded, settling down and carefully pulling his rifle off his shoulder to get in position.

Stephanie took a deep breath, readied her shield, and nodded to the rest of the Commandos. Then, as one unit, they got up and made their way over the ridge.

***

An hour later Stephanie watched as the last of the walls of the base fell under one of Dernier's explosives.

"You know," Dum Dum said, from where he stood a few feet away, "have I mentioned yet how happy I am he's on our side?"

Stephanie laughed. "It bears repeating."

After making it down the ridge, she and the others had focused on dealing with any Hydra operatives in their path, as quickly and silently as possible. Once they'd reached the foot of one of the walls Dernier had gone to work, rigging up explosives from a trunk Gabe and Falsworth had carried down with them.

The resulting explosion had quite neatly removed a large section of the wall, and alerted Hydra to their presence. As they had moved inside, Dernier had grinned and shouted, "you think they'll figure out that was the signal?"

"They better!" Stephanie had shouted back, resisting the urge to look at the ridge where she knew Bucky lay in wait. As soon as the coast was clear he would follow them inside and take up a position from where he could provide cover, using his abilities as a sniper to deadly effect. Once the rest of the unit arrived they too would send men up to join him, in the hopes of clearing the yard before removing the rest of the walls, and buildings, to ensure the place could not readily, or quickly, be put back into service again.

The plan had gone off without a hitch. The unit had indeed recognized the signal for what it was and come in on their heels while. Meanwhile, shortly after entering the yard, Stephanie and the rest of the Commandos had found themselves covered by sniper fire, first from the rubble of the collapsed wall, then surrounding walls and even the tops of buildings. Bucky moved so quickly, and so silently, that no one could see him, let alone find him to try and take him out.

The yard was soon cleared which allowed for Dernier to continue with his demolition efforts which had led to Stephanie's current situation as she helped clear out the remaining Hydra soldiers. Though there were many dead Hydra soldiers littering the ground, none of them were there because of her. Bucky, and Howard, had been right about the odd properties of the shield and, with the hours of practice she'd been putting in back at Headquarters, she could now wield it with impressive accuracy.

As Dum Dum moved off to help clear out several Hydra soldiers who'd taken refuge in one of the few buildings still standing, Stephanie moved to stand against a pile of rubble that had once been part of a wall. There were pipes and broken blocks of concrete fallen around it and she picked her way over carefully, hoping to use the wall as cover. She spotted several Hydra operatives coming around the corner of a nearby building, trying to flank Dum Dum and the other men from the unit. Setting herself, she rotated her hips for more power and flung her shield. It whipped through the air, striking both operatives solidly, the clangs of the shield hitting their metal helmets ricocheting through the small field. They fell to the ground with heavy thuds even as the shield bounced off the wall of the building they'd been sneaking around and boomeranged back into her hand.

Stephanie grinned. "Did you see that?" she asked, keeping her voice low. She had no doubt Bucky, with his enhanced hearing, could hear her just as she had no doubt he was nearby. He'd protected all of them during the battle but had primarily stuck close to her, a fact she imagined he'd excuse as simply protecting his superior if she complained about it.

The crack of a gunshot rang out and she jumped. The sound of someone grunting in pain had her spinning around, just in time to see a Hydra operative tumble off the wall she'd been standing under, gun falling from his hand to land at her feet.

"How about less showboating and more paying attention to the people trying to kill you?" Bucky's exasperated voice answered her and Stephanie sent a guilty look toward the small hillock where she heard it coming from.

"Sorry," she said, apologetically.

He didn't answer but she could almost hear the sigh of long suffering that he was probably mentally heaving.

The rest of the job was finished soon after that. They were in enemy territory and it was important to get in, get done and get out as soon as possible. Once the final building was reduced to a pile of smoldering rubble they moved out quickly, back into the surrounding forest. With the first and second bases, they'd taken a dozen or so Hydra soldiers as prisoners with them back to headquarters. Here, as the bases became farther behind enemy lines, and more heavily defended as Hydra began to expect the attacks, the prisoners were fewer in number. For this base, there were only five and Stephanie imagined there might well be none for the rest. With three bases, down, Hydra would be on highest alert and the fighting would only be more vicious. It worried her, a lot if she were being honest with herself. The units Phillips had sent with her had suffered casualties in all three attacks and she understood, logically, that she had been extraordinarily lucky to have suffered no more than a few cuts and scrapes among the Commandos.

She'd made a personal commitment to bringing every one of her men home, and she knew it was only going to get harder to keep that commitment each mission they were sent out on. It left a tight feeling in her gut and a horrible mental image of being in Phillip's place, having to write out a letter to some poor family, those dreaded words "I'm sorry" woefully inadequate to the words that came after.

The unit commander approached her and Stephanie went through the rote of thanking him for the help, and vice versa. They would be moving out to return home while Stephanie and the Commandos split in two teams and scouted, trying to make sure nothing was coming up behind, or lying in wait ahead as they returned home.

Stephanie, Bucky and Falsworth, who was an expert marksman in his own right; took the lead where a counterattack was most likely to come from while the rest of her men covered their retreat.

They set off, making good speed and soon put enough distance between them and the rest of the unit that it felt as if it were only the three of them taking a leisurely stroll through the, admittedly freezing, woods rather than fleeing an attack on an enemy base in enemy controlled territory.

Falsworth soon dropped a few yards behind them and Bucky almost immediately took the opportunity to clear his throat and ask, "I wondered, Captain, if you might consider our mission officially over now?"

"Almost," Stephanie said, absently noting his use of the nickname the Commandos used and that he only really used when he wanted something. "We still need to get back home."

"True," Bucky agreed. He was holding his rifle in both hands, the muzzle pointed at the ground as they walked, "but the bulk of the mission is over, wouldn't you agree?"

"I suppose," Stephanie allowed, cautiously.

Bucky nodded. He shifted the rifle to one hand and used the strap to sling it over his shoulder. "In that case," he said mildly, "permission to kiss my wife?"

Stephanie bit back a smile. She reached out and slid an arm around his waist and he, without breaking stride, returned the gesture and leaned forward to kiss her lightly. They immediately released one another, only for him to grab her hand for a quick second, their fingers intertwining before he gently allowed the contact to slip away.

A moment later his rifle was back in his hands and Stephanie was pretending not to hear Falsworth taking a sudden interest in the local fauna behind them.

"We're even now," Stephanie said. "You know, for the weapons plant and all that."

Bucky grimaced. "I could have lived with owing you on that one." He frowned at her. "Let's try not to start a new tally, all right?"

"Agreed," Stephanie said, suppressing a shudder at the thought of his life being in danger again. She'd lived through that hell once already and had no desire to do so again.

Three bases down. Three to go, plus the mysterious seventh and then there was also the task of removing Zola from the equation. It seemed insurmountable when she looked at it like that but she would get it done regardless.

One step at a time, she told herself firmly.

Three bases down.

Onto the fourth.

***

Peggy was back by the time they returned and, as expected, was not pleased to have lost the pool.

"You couldn't have waited three days," she complained, pushing off the wall where she'd been waiting for Stephanie to get out of her debriefing with Phillips. "Three bloody days, that's all it would have taken."

"Sorry," Stephanie said, not at all apologetic. "You should have warned me just how dangerous dragging him off to my quarters would be."

Peggy snorted. "I seem to recall using the word invite, not drag. You did that entirely on your own." She gave Stephanie a mischievous grin. "You want me to get the alternate uniform back from Howard?"

Stephanie frowned in confusion. "That silver one? Why would I want it?"

Peggy shook her head and sent a look upwards that Stephanie thought was just a tad melodramatic. She started to ask again what the other woman was talking about but cut off as they passed a small group of soldiers heading down the hall in the opposite direction. Lorraine was smack in the middle of them, hanging onto the arm of one of the soldiers. As they passed the woman gave her a dirty look and leaned up to whisper in the man's ear. Whatever she said earned Stephanie a look of disgust from the man as they passed.

Peggy frowned, looking over her shoulder at the group and Stephanie shrugged. "She's just angry that I've got Bucky and she hasn't." She had a good guess that Lorraine had joined Hodge in the rumor mill party and was probably the cause of some of the more salacious ones.

"Bit hypocritical of her," Peggy mused. "You want me to speak to her?" The way she said the word speak suggested she was thinking of using something other than words, but Stephanie shook her head.

"It wouldn't matter. Even if no one was actively spreading rumors they'd still spread."

"True enough," Peggy said. "I've had my own share."

Stephanie nodded. She imagined Lorraine, who was only marginally in an "acceptable" female's role as a secretary, had things said about her as well. It was her hope that, eventually, the woman's jealousy or anger or whatever it was would cool enough for her to remember that.

They reached the elevator and Stephanie paused. "I'm going to head to the training room. You're welcome to join me if you like."

"Perhaps later," Peggy said. She held out a folder she'd been carrying. "In the meantime, here. This is the scouting report on the next Hydra facility you'll be going after. You're in luck, it appears to be little more than a single building, probably used to store munitions before they're sent out to other locations."

"Great," Stephanie said, taking the folder. "We can just unleash Dernier on it."

The elevator door opened and Stephanie took a step back as the other woman got on. The car was empty and Peggy leaned against the back wall, crossing her arms. "I'll see to it that your alternate uniform is sent to your room when you return."

"Why?" Stephanie asked again, confused.

"Just trust me on it," Peggy said, clearly amused. "That poor boy of yours was rather embarrassed in the lab, don't you think? I imagine he'd love a chance to get try again."

Stephanie felt her face heat up and she gaped at the other woman. Peggy simply smirked in return and gave a wave as the door slid closed.

Once it had Stephanie stayed where she was for a good twenty or more seconds before turning on one heel and heading off to find her men. She was just going to ignore what Peggy had said, she decided.

Ignore it completely.

***

As promised the fourth base did, indeed, turn out to be little more than a storage hub used to house weapons and ammunition.

Dernier was ecstatic. After, he gleefully told her it was the largest explosion he'd ever set off.

Four down.

Three to go.

***

Dernier's mood proved to be contagious and the entire team was in high spirits when they got back to headquarters. While her mean headed off to a nearby tavern to celebrate, Stephanie went to report to Phillips. She was hopeful that, since the base proved little more than an excuse for Dernier to blow something up, Phillips might allow them to move straight onto the fifth base. He usually insisted on downtime between each mission, countering Stephanie's insistence that Hydra would have more time to prepare with the fact that her men weren't enhanced and speed wouldn't mean a damn thing if they were exhausted and got sloppy.

When she got to his office the door was closed and she could hear the low murmur of voices coming from within. She could have heard what was being said had she paid attention but she didn't, choosing instead to let the young soldier manning the receptionist desk know she'd returned. He could send word when Phillips was free and she'd come back and give her report.

In the meantime, she should have plenty of time to make it to the tavern and enjoy a drink or two with Bucky and the rest of her men.

After she stopped by her room to change. Her field costume was comfortable enough but she'd already been wearing it for several days. When she opened the door to her quarters the first thing she spotted was a familiar looking box laying on her bed. Peggy's words floated through her mind and she felt her face catch fire. She quickly grabbed the box, dropped to her knees and shoved it under her bed where she hopefully would never have to see it again.

She took a fast shower, changed quickly and headed out. The elevator was just arriving at the end of the hallway and she slowed down as she reached it. The doors slid open and she lifted her head and took a step forward. Vaguely her mind registered someone else standing in the elevator car but she was focused on getting to Bucky and her men and didn't pay attention to it. The elevator doors closed and she reached to hit the button for the top floor.

"Allow me," a voice said and Stephanie stiffened, a rush of cold racing through her as a hand reached past hers to push the button.

With a sick feeling in her gut, she turned, and barely restrained herself from making a strangled noise at the sight of the other occupant in the elevator.

"Hello Miss Rogers," Senator Brandt said, giving her the oily smile she was familiar with. "It's been awhile, hasn't it? I hear a lot has changed since the last time we spoke."

 


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to one and all! I hope you all have a great day tomorrow in whatever you have planned! :D :D I'll probably be posting a second update tomorrow so that'll be up at some point! :D

Stephanie stood rigid while the camera flashed, every nerve on edge. The photographer told her to move and she obeyed woodenly, switching to a side profile and staring blankly ahead.

Unfortunately, this gave her a direct line of sight to Senator Brandt standing against the far wall, watching her. When she'd seen him in the elevator the night before she'd been to stunned to do much more than stammer before escaping the second the elevator door had opened. From there she'd practically run to the bar where her men were.

Bucky had known something was wrong but she had feigned exhaustion, a claim she'd managed to thoroughly disprove by following him to his quarters later and backing him against the edge of his desk before he could ask her what was wrong. He'd allowed her to distract him but she knew full well the allowance was temporary. Bucky had never been one to let things go when he knew she was upset. 

She usually had photo shoots the day after she returned from a mission and wondered if Brandt had planned his arrival to coincide with it. The feeling was amplified by the presence of the friend Brandt had brought with him, who even then was leering at her in a way that made her skin crawl.

He was the same one from before, an older man who, like Howard, had been born into wealth but, unlike Howard, had dedicated his life to being an unmitigated asshole. Had Stephanie realized he was around she'd have begged off the photo shoot altogether but, as it was, she'd gone in the hopes that Brandt simply wanted to be assured that his personal publicity stunt was still doing what he wanted.

She really should have known better.

The photographer snapped another shot and Brandt held up a hand to stop him before he could continue. He came forward and Stephanie tensed, crossing her arms self-consciously as the other man, whose name was William Cane if she recalled correctly, followed. Her outfit, which had always walked the lines of modesty, suddenly felt downright inappropriate, the skirt practically non-existent and the bodice far too low cut and tight.

"Where's the other one?" Brandt asked as he reached her. "The Solider or whatever they call him."

"He's certainly gotten quite popular with the women," Cane added, looking amused. "My wife can't get enough of him."

Stephanie managed to not grimace in disgust. "Sergeant Barnes isn't an official part of the campaign," she said, fighting to keep her voice level. She'd sent him to the Mess Hall ahead of her, both to keep the photographer from wanting to take photos of him and to keep him from seeing Brandt.

If Bucky met Brandt and Cane it'd most likely end with Bucky killing them. Then he'd wind up in prison and she didn't think she could survive being separated from him again so that meant she'd have to break him out which would lead to a whole host of new problems for them both.

Brandt waved a hand at the photographer and the rest of the crew. "You, go find Barnes and tell him to get down here. The rest of you take a break."

Stephanie tensed. "He doesn't really enjoy this. I was thinking of phasing him out."

Brandt gave her a look of derision. "Well, you don't make the decisions do you? I do. Barnes has been a cash cow for all the lonely housewives whose husbands are off on the front lines. I'm not cutting him out because you've got the limelight now and don't want to give it up."

That wasn't fair, or true, and Brandt knew it. Stephanie had never sought the spotlight and had willingly ceded it to Tony when he'd come along.

The photographer left to go find Bucky and the rest of the crew retreated to a far corner of the room, leaving her, Brandt and Crane relatively isolated on the other side.

Cane smirked and then very deliberately wandered away toward the crew. That left just her and Brandt, standing together like they were old friends.

"When last we spoke," Brandt started, "you were quite rude in your...objections to my idea to increase bond sales and provide even more aid to our troops."

Stephanie clenched her teeth. Brandt was the worst kind of politician, twisting everything he said and did to make it sound so altruistic when, in reality, it was anything but.

"Somehow," Stephanie said shortly, "I doubt the soldiers would have been the ones to benefit." As Tony had pointed out to her later, most likely the extra money would have gone straight into his re-election campaign as under the heading of a "donation by a dear friend", thus relieving Brandt of having to explain how he'd come by the sudden windfall.

"And I doubt your objections were as _moralistic_ as you tried to pretend," Brandt shot back. "Not according to the rumors I've been hearing."

"There are a lot of rumors going around," Stephanie bit out, "some from people who believe they have cause to dislike me. It doesn't make them true."

"Oh?" Brandt raised his eyebrows in mock disbelief. "So, then my sources are wrong and you and Barnes haven't been regularly spending the night in one another's company?"

Stephanie sucked in a sharp breath at the blunt, and highly inappropriate, question even as she felt her face heat in embarrassment. "Are you having me spied on, Senator?"

"I told you," Brandt said, unapologetic. "I like to keep an eye on my assets."

"What I do on my own time is my own business," Stephanie said coldly, struggling to remember what Tony had said and stay in control, "and I am not your asset. I continue to do Lady Liberty as a courtesy," sort of. The military, and she imagined Brandt, had insisted on it at the beginning but that was before she'd taken down a line of Hydra facilities. "I think I've more than proven myself in the field and I doubt anyone would take issue if I decided to devote myself full time to the fight instead of wasting it on propaganda."

Brandt smirked and the look he gave her was one a parent might bestow on a misbehaving child. "You think because you got to go out and look pretty while soldiers do all the work gives you some sort of new status now?"

"That's not how it happens," Stephanie said shortly. "If you read the mission reports--"

"Mission reports I'm sure your men wrote under orders to make you look good," Brandt cut in, waving a hand in dismissal. "No self-respecting man would allow a woman to fight, and they certainly wouldn't follow her into battle."  

"Sergeant Barnes doesn't mind," Stephanie blurted without thinking, "and neither do the rest of the Commandos."

Brandt laughed, the sound unpleasant. "Barnes gets a pretty big incentive doesn't he?" he chuckled at her scandalized look and added, "Barnes is a pretty boy on a poster. It's no surprise he lets a woman order him around." His smirk turned into a leer as he added, "probably enjoys it in the bedroom too, I'd imagine."

Stephanie was finding it difficult to breathe. Her chest was tight and her fingers were digging into her forearms so hard she was probably going to bruise them. No matter how Brandt felt about her sex she highly doubted he regularly talked to ladies like in such a crass manner. He did it with her because he didn't consider her a lady. "That why your _friend_ wants me too?" she asked sharply, no longer quite so willing to show him respect in the vain hoped he'd return the favor. "He likes getting pushed around?"

Brandt's face took on a near apoplectic look, a vein throbbing in his left temple. Stephanie held her ground, her chin up and her eyes meeting his. She wished he _would_ try to hit her. She could get away with defending herself.

Even as she thought it, Stephanie knew Brandt would never do it. He was an awful, awful person but he wasn't stupid. He knew she couldn't touch him without risking being charged with assault and they both knew such a charge would get her removed from the front lines and sent right off to a lab. She could see Brandt spinning the headlines now; hysterical Lady Liberty breaks down under the pressure of military service and attacks senator proving that women, in fact, do not belong in war.

The door opened on the other side of the room, near the crew, and the photographer walked in.

"I wonder how Barnes would do in another unit," Brandt's voice said next to her ear and Stephanie felt her heart jolt in her chest.  

"It doesn't matter," she said quickly, probably too quickly she realized belatedly. "He's a Howling Commando. I have no intentions of releasing him."

As if summoned the door opened again and Bucky walked in, an annoyed look on his face. Stephanie saw his eyes go toward the crew and he moved to greet a few he'd become friendly with. Cane walked over with his hand out and Stephanie resisted the urge to throw up at the man trying to act like he was anything less than a snake.

Brandt chuckled. "As far as the military is concerned you're a showgirl keeping up morale for the troops and the folks back home. I own Lady Liberty. I'd keep that in mind before you start trying to get uppity." He moved in closer and Stephanie leaned back as his breath washed over her. "I've got more power in my little finger than you'll have in your entire life, little girl. I let you cross me once. Try it again and you'll regret it."

Movement came from her left and then Brandt was jerking back, barely fast enough to avoid being physically moved by Bucky stepping between them.

"Hi," he said, his voice as cold as Stephanie had ever heard it. "I don't think we've met. James Barnes."

The only thing Stephanie could see was Bucky's back so she stepped to one side, the opposite side from Cane who'd followed Bucky over. She saw Brandt grip Bucky's hand in a handshake, and saw his face twist as Bucky about crushed his fingers. She put a hand lightly on Bucky's arm and he reluctantly released the senator's hand. Brandt gave her a knowing look and she realized she'd probably just solidified his belief that Bucky was weak and enjoyed being dominated.  

Brandt greeted Bucky, a smile plastered to his voice and the charisma that had probably helped him get elected literally oozing from every pore. He was hoping to get Bucky on his side and hopefully use him against her, she thought. Brandt's words about moving Bucky to another unit ran through her head and she felt cold rush through her. It was quickly replaced by a surge of nausea as Cane started to try and slither closer to her.

"I'm sorry," she said, cutting into Brandt's speech about Bucky's contributions to the war effort, none of which her husband was buying judging by the flat look he was giving the senator. "I'm not feeling well. I'm going to have to cut this short."

Before Brandt or his crony could try and force her to stay she spun on her heel and practically ran from the room. She made it to the elevator, which thankfully hadn't been called anywhere since Bucky had used it, and darted in, slapping the button to close the doors behind her. She leaned against the back door and focused on breathing in through her mouth and out through her nose, letting her head fall back against the wall and her eyes slide closed.

The sound of a hand grabbing the doors and forcing them back open had her jerking upright again, tensing. She practically sagged with relief a moment later as the doors opened to allow Bucky to step in. She didn't see what button he hit but did notice when, as soon as the doors shut, he turned to face her.  

"You want to tell me why he was threatening you?"

Damn enhanced hearing. She'd really been hoping he hadn't heard that.

"He's always been an asshole," she answered, not meeting his eyes. "I can handle him."

"That why you looked like you were about to throw up on his shoes?"

The tiniest ghost of a smile tugged at Stephanie's lips as she pictured that mental image.

"What did he mean about you crossing him?" Bucky asked. "Or about this being the second time?"

The elevator slid to a stop and the doors opened onto the main room of the base. Stephanie spotted Phillips standing on the other side of the room speaking to an officer. He spotted her and raised a hand, indicating for her to come over.

Stephanie's eyes flickered to Bucky's and his narrowed. "Don't," he said shortly. "Don't you dare lie to me, Stephanie Barnes."

Stephanie jerked her eyes away. She moved so Bucky's body was blocking anyone in the room from seeing her, put her chin up, took a deep breath and straightened her spine. "Phillips needs to see me. I need to go."

His arm shot out and slid around her waist to stop her, his hand resting on her hip.

"None of the masks you wear fool me," he said, his voice low. "We're supposed to protect each other, remember?"

"I do," Stephanie said. She reached out lightly to grab his uniform jacket in one hand, bunching the material in a fist. She kept her eyes focused on his tiepin, watching his chest rise and fall under it as he breathed. "You protect me, and I protect you. I haven't forgotten."

She let go of his jacket and he dropped his arm to let her pass but fell in behind her. "This isn't over, Steph," she heard him say over her shoulder. "I'm not dropping this."

Stephanie shivered and crossed her arms again, trying not to feel as if she were rapidly sinking in quicksand. "I know."

***

Stephanie knew she was in for it the second she saw the look on Bucky's face.

Or, more accurately, the second she saw the look that wasn't on his face. When she got angry she tended to get louder and more expressive. Bucky, on the other did, did the exact opposite, getting quieter and expressionless.

The rest of the Commandos had clearly picked up on it as they quietly gathered their equipment and got ready to move out.

When Phillips had called her over from the elevator it had been to announce she was cleared to take out the fifth Hydra facility. It was a short turnaround but he'd known it would take time to prepare and he didn't want Hydra to notice a pattern and guess when they might be coming. Changing up when they left might restore a slight element of surprise to their side.

Given that Phillips had spoken to Brandt and Cane before her, Stephanie had a slight suspicion he was helping her get away from the base for a while and could have hugged him for it.

Instead she'd thrown herself into preparing, spending the next two days personally helping pack and get supplies together. She'd managed to avoid Brandt and Cane by keeping to public places where they couldn't bother her without drawing undue attention to themselves. Brandt might not care what she thought but he had a public reputation to maintain.

She didn't sleep in her room, or Bucky's. Being enhanced meant she didn't need as much sleep and, when she did, it was easier to drop on a pallet somewhere in a back corner or office rather than try to go all the way back to her room.

The first time she did it she woke up to what she could swear was Bucky's voice speaking to someone outside the small room but when she opened the door the corridor was open. The next time she woke up to the distinct feeling someone had been sleeping next to her but, again, she'd been alone.

Bucky didn't push her. He was there alongside her, helping her get ready, and occasionally brought her food and demanded she eat but they didn't really speak. Peggy and the others could see there was a tension between them but, thankfully, none of them pushed the issue.

They marched out and then it was Lady Liberty and Sergeant Barnes and it was less stressful no longer having to pretend everything was all right when it was anything but. Phillips only gave her a small unit for the fifth facility, concerned with the distance and the possibility a larger force would be at greater risk of being spotted by the enemy.

They found it nearly a week later, and proceeded to burn it to ash.

The mission had been rather cathartic for Stephanie, a way to vent the roiling mass of frustration, anger, fear and strong resentment she'd been festering since Brandt and his sycophant had shown up.

As she stood in the middle of burning rubble and debris, men giving her a wide berth and awed looks, it occurred to her she might have gotten a bit carried away.

This feeling was confirmed when she got back to the rendezvous point and saw Bucky.

She barely stepped into the clearing, covered with sweat and grime, exhausted and still trying to catch her breath when he was suddenly right in front of her.

"We need to talk," he said shortly, his voice flat. "Now."

Stephanie stiffened. "Can this wait until later, Sergeant?"

"No, _Captain_ ," Bucky said, his voice low enough that no one but her could hear it. "It can't."

"This isn't the time or place," Stephanie said flatly. She started to go around him only to have him step in her path, hands clasped behind his back.

"You should have thought of that before you spent the last week and two days ducking me," he said. "We can either talk in private or we can have it out here but I'm done waiting."

Stephanie stared at him and he stared back, unflinching. Finally, she gave a sigh of resignation, her shoulders sagging. "Give me a minute."

She stowed her gear and shield and then went to where Dum Dum was speaking to Gabe.

"Hey," she said, breaking into their conversation. "Can you take point for a bit? I need to talk to Bucky. We'll catch up."

Dum Dum nodded. "Of course, Captain. Be careful."

"I will." Stephanie spun on one heel, her stomach already churning, and headed into the treeline. She could hear the crunch of boots behind her that told her Bucky was following.

She walked a long time. Part of her wished she never had to stop. Maybe she could just keep going, past the crap waiting for her back at base, past the conversation she didn't want to have, past all of it.

Just...leave it all behind.

 

Except Bucky was behind her.

 

She sighed again and stopped. She kept her back to him, her head down and her arms crossed.

"You jumped off an exploding tank," Bucky's voice said and Stephanie flinched. "Even for you, that's a new level of reckless."

It actually wasn't when you took into account the grenade she hadn't known was fake and her first parachute jump from a plane being solo and into anti-aircraft fire but he didn't know about either of those and telling him would not help matters.

Bucky had gone silent and Stephanie tensed again, waiting for him to light into her over how much danger she'd put herself in. Her vision wavered at the thought of having to fight with him and she clenched her teeth, fighting to keep her emotions in check. She was Lady Liberty, for heaven's sake, and she'd just jumped off an exploding tank and reduced an enemy installation to rubble.

Her emotions subsided but it was too late as her eyes had already welled up and there was no place for the water to go but in tracks down the sides of her face.

Footsteps sounded again and she looked down and away as Bucky came around to face her. She felt him put a finger under her chin and lift her face up. Stephanie kept her eyes steadily focused away from him and gave no reaction as he cupped her face in his hands and used his thumbs to wipe the tears off her face.

"What did I say about wearing masks in front of me?" he asked gently, leaning forward to tap his forehead against hers.

Stephanie lunged forward to throw her arms around him. She didn't cry but merely twisted her hands in the back of his overcoat and buried her face in the crook of his neck.

"So," Bucky asked conversationally a few minutes later, "what exactly is it you think you're protecting me from?"

Stephanie didn't answer. She pulled back and looked down, unwilling to meet his eyes. Idly she grabbed his overcoat and began unbuttoning it, only to rebutton it and then repeat the process. It was a variation of what she'd used to do as a child when she was under stress, nervously picking at something or repetitiously doing something with her hands.

"All right," Bucky said, sounding exasperated. "Come on, you can practice your skills with buttons just as easily sitting as standing."

He caught her upper arms and pulled her over to a nearby tree where he promptly dropped down and leaned back against the trunk with his knees bent. He reached up to catch her hand and tugged her down to straddle his legs, the angle tipping her forward against his body. He wrapped his arms around her and braced his hands on his knees, his face only an inch or so from hers. 

Stephanie got settled and promptly went back to working on the buttons of his coat, unbuttoning it completely this time. She set to work on his dress jacket after that and then his dress shirt under that. He had an undershirt on next with no buttons so she grabbed his tie and pulled it free, sliding the material through her hands before letting it drop to the ground beside them.

She started to button his shirt again, worried he might get cold, only to have him grab her hands and stop her. He nudged her head up with his and kissed her lightly and quickly, drew back to give her an intense look, and then kissed her again.

Stephanie pulled her hands free and grabbed fistfuls of his shirt as she surged forward to kiss him. He took her face in his hands again and gently broke off the kiss.

"Relax," he ordered softly. He leaned in to kiss her but Stephanie pulled away.

"We're in enemy territory, Bucky."

"They aren't going to show up in the next five minutes," he said reasonably.

"But, the men--" she cast a look behind her, in the direction they'd gone only to have him firmly pull her back around to face him.

"Will be fine," he said firmly. "They're all capable." He nudged her head again, kissed her and said, "just let it go for a few minutes, all right? You're still human, no matter what Schmidt says. You're allowed to take a break. Just," here he punctuated the word with a kiss, "relax."

He kissed her again and, this time, Stephanie let herself settle against him. His arms slid around her and she leaned in, trying to intensify the kiss, but he wasn't having it. He kept things slow, languid almost, and intense enough she could drown in it if she wanted.

She did. She slowly released the death grip she hadn't even realized she'd taken on his shirt. The kiss deepened naturally and she moved her hands to lay flat on his shoulders.

It was about five minutes later, as promised, that he broke it off. He lowered his legs and she settled back, trying to adjust her position to make it a little more comfortable for him, not that he was complaining. The position, almost kneeling with her legs under her, wasn't comfortable for her either but she didn't want to move any more than he did.

She rested her clenched hands on her thighs only to have him tease one open so he could interlace their fingers in a tight grip. He slid his other hand along the side of her face and she absently put her free hand over his.

"You're the one who said no more secrets," he said mildly. "You go and change your mind?"

"No more secrets," Stephanie said softly, staring at their joined hands on her leg. "Protecting one another." She looked up to meet his eyes. "What am I supposed to do when the two collide?"

"Tell me," he said simply, "so we can figure it out together."

Stephanie shook her head. "If I tell you, you're going to do something stupid. Then they'll take you away and put you in prison, or a lab if they find out the truth, and we won't be together anymore. Then who's going to have my back?"

"I'm not going anywhere," Bucky said firmly. She shook her head and he let out a huff.

"So, I'm going to want to kill someone, is that it? And by someone I'm guessing it's that slimy senator and his lackey who both keep sniffing around you."

Stephanie frowned. "No, he hasn't. He only talked to me the one time."

He snorted. "That's because we've been keeping him away from you." At her startled look, he said, "Come on, Steph. You think I just forgot him threatening you?" He cocked his head slightly to one side. "Or you think I missed how fast you jumped to my other side when that other asshole came slithering over?" He leaned in to lightly kiss her again. "I may not know what the problem is but I sure as hell know who it is and not knowing the whole story didn't mean I was going to sit back and let them harass you."

Stephanie clenched her teeth. She started rebuttoning his shirt again; her movements slightly less frantic than before.  

Bucky ducked his head down to look at her. "I swear I won't do anything to get myself arrested, okay? Come on, Steph, let me in. No more secrets."

Stephanie stopped halfway through buttoning up his dress jacket and lifted her head to look at him. Her stomach roiled and she breathed in through her mouth and out through her nose, trying to calm it.

 

Then she opened her mouth and she told him.

 

It didn't take very long and Bucky said nothing while she spoke. He sat completely still with his face blank and his eyes locked in on hers.

When she was done there was dead silence. The only sign that Bucky was reacting at all was the fact he was breathing hard and his eyes were fixed. He shut his eyes and dropped his head against the trunk of the tree. He moved his hands to rest on her thighs and then ran them up to her hips, his fingers digging into her skin but not hard enough to hurt her.

Stephanie hesitated and then pushed up on her knees. She grabbed the front of his jacket and leaned forward to lightly nuzzle his face, kissing him slowly on both closed eyes and then putting her face next to his ear. "Don't leave me."

He let out a groan as if he was in physical pain. "I'm not going to leave you," he bit out, "but that doesn't mean I can't kill them both." He opened his eyes and lifted his head. "No one will ever find them, and they'll never prove it was me."

The light in his eyes was almost feverish and Stephanie shook her head carefully. "We can't, Buck. We'd be no better than Schmidt."

"I'm more okay with that than you might think," Bucky growled. He nudged her to get up and she obeyed, grimacing and bracing herself against the tree as her legs started to wake up. The feeling of pins and needles got worse when she moved so she tried to stay as still as possible until it passed.

Bucky started buttoning his clothing back up. If his own legs were asleep he wasn't showing any signs of it, or perhaps he was just too angry to notice. "I'm going to handle this."

"Don't," Stephanie insisted. "Bucky--"

"You're my wife," Bucky retorted. "I'm not just going to stand by while some asshole tries to force you to--" He bit off the rest, his face twisting in disgust. "What if I just killed one of them?"

"Neither," Stephanie insisted. She wrapped both arms around one of his and rested her head on his shoulder as they started to walk. It was awkward but reminded her of before the war, back when things were simpler. "They'll leave eventually. We just have to wait it out." Her voice wasn't entirely convinced, even to her own ears.

"They aren't going to send me away," Bucky assured her. "Brandt doesn't run the damn military, Steph. I don't care how many friends he has, there's no way anyone's going to let him go around reassigning troops on a whim, and it would be a whim because you and I both know he's not going to tell anyone why he's actually doing it." He tugged his arm free so he could throw it around her shoulders, pulling her in close. "Besides, he gets rid of me and he loses the only leverage he thinks he has on you. What's he going to do then?"

"Probably die," Stephanie muttered, "because I'd kill him myself."

"That's my girl," Bucky said, squeezing her shoulders. "It's going to be all right, Steph."

"Yeah," Stephanie said, distracted. She felt both relieved that Bucky knew and terrified at the same time.

She could only hope she hadn't just made the biggest mistake of her life.

***

Brandt and Cane were waiting when they got back.

"Just ignore them," Bucky said, spotting the men across the room. "I'll handle them."

"They'll never respect me if they think I'm always hiding behind you or my men," Stephanie said. "I need to be able to stand up to them. Preferably, in a way that won't get me arrested."

"I'm not letting you deal with them on your own," Bucky said, his eyes dark as he surveyed the two men, "what kind of husband would I be if I just abandoned you to two old lechers, regardless of how capable I believe you are?"

They arrived at the other side of the room and Stephanie faced Brandt and Cane.

"Senator Brandt," she said, keeping her tone cool. "Mr. Cane."

"It's about time you got back," Brandt said, his voice short. He nodded at Bucky. "Sergeant."

"Senator." Bucky's voice could have been pure ice and Stephanie knew the other man couldn't miss it. Brandt frowned and then asked,

"Would you mind taking a walk with me, Sergeant? I'd like to speak to you, alone."

As he spoke, Cane stepped up next to Stephanie, openly leering at her. "I'll be happy to escort Lady Liberty to her room in the meantime," he said, reaching out to take her arm.

Bucky's hand closed over his wrist before he ever got close. "I don't think so."

"I'd be careful if I were you, _Sergeant_ ," Brandt said shortly. "I can make life very easy for you, or very hard. Now why don't you come over with me and let Will escort the....lady, to her room?" The way he said he made it clear the term he was thinking of wasn't lady.

"The only one who will be escorting the _lady_ anywhere," Bucky said, his tone flat, "will be me."

Brandt frowned at him, sizing him up. Stephanie remembered how he'd characterized Bucky back when he'd first arrived and wondered if he was adjusting his opinion.

She got her answer a moment later when Brandt glanced around to make sure no one was near before saying, "I wonder how your _wife_ would feel about that, Sergeant Barnes?"

He leaned back with a look of triumph. Beside him, Cane smirked.

Bucky grinned. It wasn't a nice grin and Stephanie felt her gut twist.

"Well," he said mildly, "I wouldn't know. What do you say we ask her?"

Stephanie sucked in a sharp breath. "Bucky!"

He gave her a look, the same one from when he'd asked her to trust him. "What do you think, Steph?"

"About what?" Stephanie stalled, desperately hoping he'd regain his sanity.

"About my going with Lady Liberty?" Bucky looked her right in the eyes, nearly pleading with her to go along and, with an almost sick feeling, Stephanie complied.

"I'd think it's a joke," she said softly. "She's out of your league."

Bucky looked downright delighted. He spun back to face Brandt and Cane and threw his arms open wide. "There you go. Now we know how she feels about it."

Brandt and Cane were staring at him blankly while Stephanie was openly gaping at him in stunned horror.

"Sorry," Bucky said, sounding completely unapologetic, "I don't think we were properly introduced when we first met."

He reached out and grabbed Brandt's hand in what must have been a truly bruising grip going by the look on the senator's face and then repeated it, with even more aggression, with Cane.

"James Buchanan Barnes," he said shortly. "Childhood friend, and husband, of the one and only Lady Liberty." He fixed Cane with a cold look. "And, as I already said, the only one who will be escorting my _wife_ to her room, will be me."

Stephanie grabbed his arm and tugged on him, trying to get him to move away toward the elevator. "Bucky, we should go."

"Feel free to check the Hall of Records in Brooklyn, New York," Bucky continued, his eyes fixed on Brandt. "We married before I shipped out. The certificate is on file."

"That's preposterous" Brandt stuttered. "You're expecting me to believe she's been married the entire time?"

Stephanie hesitated. "I wanted to keep him out of it," she said finally, giving up. The cat was already out of the proverbial bag. "Later..." she hesitated again. Brandt, unfortunately, was smart enough to figure out she'd been trying to protect Bucky from Hydra but that didn't mean she wanted to make it easy for him by spelling it out.

"Later, she didn't feel it was anyone's business," Bucky said shortly, "and it still isn't." He looped an arm around her waist and tugged her toward the elevator where she'd been wanting to go in the first place. "And, now, if you'll excuse us, we just got back from making the world safer and are exhausted."

And, with that, he turned his back on them and moved toward the elevator that would take them to their floor. Stephanie allowed him to tow her along and stood silently until the doors closed and left them alone in the car.

"Are you insane?" she asked as soon as they were alone. "What if he leaks that to Hydra?"

"He won't," Bucky said. He leaned against the far wall, his arms crossed, and dropped his head back with a groan.

"How could you possibly know that?" Stephanie demanded.

"Because," Bucky said. "That's the problem with having leverage over someone. It's only good so long as you have it, once you play it you can no longer control the person you were trying to use it against." He opened his eyes to study her. "Not to mention you heard him say it himself, the Solider is popular. Why would he sell me out and lose out on that?" He shrugged. "He backs off and he loses whatever that asshole was going to pay him, but keeps us. He sells me out and he loses both of us _and_ whatever the asshole was going to pay him. Brandt may be scum, but he didn't get where he is by being a fool."

"And how can you be so sure?" Stephanie said shortly. "What if he does it anyway, just out of spite?"

"Then I'll handle it." Bucky's eyes opened again and he gave her a steady look.

Stephanie gave a huff of annoyed irritation. The car stopped and the doors opened but not to the level their quarters were on.

"This isn't our floor," Stephanie said with a frown.

"Nope," Buck said, stepping out. "Training room. I feel the need to break a few punching bags."

He strode off the car and Stephanie watched him. His back was tense and his hands were clenching and unclenching at his side as he struggled to control himself.

Stephanie chewed on her lower lip, mentally kicking herself for not seeing it before, in spite of him having practically told her. Bucky was a born protector, thanks in large part to her constant reckless antics. He'd grown up protecting her and now she was being threatened and harassed and the best he could do was try to verbally warn them off.  

Stephanie stepped off the elevator and easily caught up to him, wrapping her hands around his bicep. He frowned at her. "I thought you were going to go rest."

Stephanie shrugged. "If you're going to train I figured I could at least come and enjoy the view."

He chuckled and something in his eyes brightened just a bit.

Stephanie squeezed his arm and then slid one hand down his forearm to interlace her fingers with his. There were several other people in the corridor but she didn't care if they saw or not.

"Come on," she tugged on his hand to get him to hurry up. The faster he got the aggression out on something that wouldn't get him arrested the better. "You have punching bags to destroy, preferably without a shirt on. Get a move on, soldier."

He snorted and tightened his grip on her hand. "Yes, _ma'am._ "

 


	25. Chapter 25

Nearly a week later Stephanie had expected, or hoped at least, that Brandt and his lackey would leave after the revelation that she was not carrying on with a married lover but was in a committed relationship with her husband.

Instead of leaving, however, the men stayed.

And stayed.

And stayed.

A big part of the reason why, from what she could tell, seemed to be simple pride and arrogance. These men were powerful and wealthy and very, very used to getting their own way. The thought that someone like her would even try to defy someone like them, or that she might succeed at it, stuck in their proverbial craws. They couldn't bring themselves to accept it.

She'd hoped Bucky, a fellow male who, in their Neanderthal way of thinking was automatically worthy of more respect than her, would have been enough to scare them off.

It hadn't and Stephanie could only assume they were somehow still convinced Bucky was weak in some way and of very little real threat to them.

Regardless of what the actual reason was, there was one thing she knew with absolute certainty.

If they didn't leave soon Bucky _was_ going to kill them, if she didn't do it first.

The two started to appear in the Mess Hall when she ate, the training room when she trained, every time she came or left from the secondary missions she'd started begging Phillips to send her on, and every Lady Liberty shoot.

They also did their best to worm their way into the good graces of everyone on base, purposefully trying to isolate her in the process. They portrayed themselves as charming, charismatic, jovial even, making her clear apathy toward them appear misplaced and outright petty.  They even made a huge show of being polite or kind to her when in public, wanting to shake her hand or pose for a photograph with her for posterity's sake they said - Brandt and his Lady aiding the war effort.

It made her want to throw up every time he put an arm around her shoulder, and it was a thousand times worse when Cane did it. If she tried to get out of it she looked stuck up or like a diva or a thousand other negative things while Brandt appeared down to earth and laid back, a man of the people in spite of his wealth and power.

She was beginning to see how he'd managed to get elected in the first place.

They didn't win over everyone of course. Some, like Peggy and Lorraine who weren't treated much better than she was by the two men; weren't fooled, while others simply didn't care. Bucky, of course, hated them with a passion bordering on the irrational while her men disliked the two based on how she behaved around them coupled with Bucky's barely concealed rage. They did their best to look after her when Brandt and Cane were around, heading them off to allow her time to leave the room, jumping into photos with her so they could have their arms around her instead of Brandt or Cane, surrounding her at tables so there was no room for anyone else.

It made things easier but not perfect as none of them could be everywhere at once and Brandt _did_ succeed in convincing some people of his supposedly good intentions. Granted, most of these were people already predisposed to dislike her, like Hodge for example; but it certainly didn't make her life any easier.

It was a relief when the orders finally came to take out the sixth Hydra base. Stephanie started preparations immediately, getting men assigned and trucks loaded with supplies as they got ready to move out. The trucks would be left at a midpoint between friendly lines and the Hydra base so they wouldn't have quite as far to travel without supplies. As she was helping to get one of the trucks packed, Peggy came out to see her off.  

"You seem excited," the other woman remarked as Stephanie lifted an entire box and balanced it easily on her shoulder to take to the back of the truck.

"I am," Stephanie said. "This is the sixth base out of seven. We're almost done."

Peggy cocked her head. "I thought you were the one chomping at the bit to get into the fight."

"That was before I found out Bucky was at risk." Stephanie dropped the box and went to get another one. "I'm not saying I'll stop fighting, but I'll be far happier when Hydra is dead and gone." She squatted next to a new box and looked up at the other woman. "Speaking of which, how's it going with Zola and the location of the seventh base?"

"I have a feeling Zola will come first," Peggy said with an annoyed sigh. "We at least have a general idea of where he is, even if we don't have a plan for capturing, or outright killing, him yet. As for the base, it could be on the moon for all the intel we've been able to find about it."

"You'll get it," Stephanie said with assurance. "You always do."

"I wish I had your confidence," the other woman muttered. She jumped off the truck and nodded to a nearby car that had just pulled into the parking lot. They were using the lot that belonged to a bombed restaurant as a staging area, getting everything loaded up and ready to go. "That's my ride." She gave Stephanie a wry grin. "I imagine both of us will be happy to be away from that moron and his toady for a little while."

"Yeah," Stephanie agreed, "but he'll be waiting when we get back. Apparently he has nothing better to do, in spite of being a senator."

"I don't know why you don't just order him to leave," Peggy said.

Stephanie snorted. "As if he'd listen to me. It'd probably just make him dig in deeper."

"Then ask Barnes to do it," Peggy said with a shrug. She leaned in close as she passed by on her way to the car. "What's the use of having a husband if you can't get him to do your dirty work?"

Stephanie rolled her eyes but the other woman was already gone, heading toward the car where she climbed in and waved as they pulled out. Stephanie waved back and returned to packing.

She caught movement out of the corner of her eye and felt her heart sink to see Cane sauntering toward her.

"Something I can do for you?" she asked shortly.

"You already know the answer to that," the older man said suggestively, leaning against the truck. "The only question is how long you're going to continue to make me wait."

Stephanie clenched her teeth and hoisted another box onto her shoulder. She felt the smallest spark of satisfaction at the sight of Cane paling at the action just a little. Without bothering to dignify his comment with a reply she turned her back on him and put the crate in the truck.

Cane stayed where he was, watching her, and Stephanie found herself reconsidering Peggy's words.

Something certainly needed to be done and sooner rather than later.

Otherwise the only question remaining would be if she cracked first or if Bucky did.

Brandt and Cane were the definition of bullies and, given her past actions concerning them, it'd most likely be her.

***

Stephanie slammed her shield into the gut of a Hydra agent and watched him soar backwards with probably more satisfaction than she should have felt.

"Taking out some pent up frustration?" an amused voice asked and she turned to see Bucky strolling toward her, his rifle slung over one shoulder and a pistol held in the other hand.

Stephanie frowned, pointedly looking around. Most of the base was currently on fire but the hanger she was in was still standing and they could hear distant fighting. "Shouldn't you be sniping something?"

"Ran out of targets," he said with an easy shrug. "Figured I'd stop by on my way to my next location. Seeing as how you ran in here without any backup and all."

Stephanie rolled her eyes. Trust Bucky to notice. "I was fine."

She turned her head away from him and started toward the door, planning to go find the closest fight and help end it.

"Why are you holding your shield on your other arm?"

Stephanie mentally cursed and turned to face him. "What? I'm only allowed to carry it on my right arm?"

"You're right handed," Bucky retorted, his eyes narrowing. He holstered his pistol, ignoring the look she gave him, and came forward with his hand out.

Stephanie gave him a dirty look and, in a move that was probably more aggressive than warranted, shoved the shield at him.

Bucky took it and set it on the ground against his leg, and then reached out again for her arm. Stephanie stood impatiently as he unwound the fabric she'd hastily wrapped around it after tearing it off the canvas of a truck. It was spattered liberally with blood though not as much as she imagined there would be had she not been enhanced.

The last layer was the most blood soaked and Bucky didn't try to pull it off, concerned about reopening the wound if he did. Instead he barely pulled the corner back, just enough to reveal a glimpse of the ragged gash running nearly the full length of her forearm. The pain had been sharp at first, setting every one of her nerves on fire and radiating the full length of her arm. Now it had settled into a dull ache, bad enough still to set her teeth on edge and raise a sweat that simply added to what she'd already worked up just from fighting. She felt mildly nauseated and dizzy as well but nothing she couldn't work through.

"It'll be healed in a couple of days," she said quickly, trying to assuage some of Bucky's worry. "You know how fast I heal now."

He was staring at her arm in silence. After a moment, he started wrapping it up again, his face pale. "What the hell happened? It looks like you tried to stop a damn knife with your arm." When she didn't respond, he looked up sharply and said, "please tell me you didn't stop a knife with your arm."

"I'm sorry," Stephanie said meekly, focusing on her arm as he finished rewrapping it. She grabbed her shield from where it still rested against his leg and turned to go, only to have him grab her arm lightly to stop her.

"Being enhanced doesn't mean you can just walk off an injury like that," he said, his words clipped. "Sit out the rest."

"I can't sit out," Stephanie said, pulling her arm free. "The fight isn't done."

She started to move again only to have him step in her path. "Come on, Steph," he said, his voice suddenly reminiscent of being back home when he'd be trying his best to convince her not to do the stupid, reckless thing she'd decided to do. "No one expects you to be a superhuman." He frowned as he realized what he'd said. "You know what I mean."

"I do," Stephanie said tiredly, "and you're wrong." He was the only one who didn't expect her to be a superhuman. She was a propaganda symbol to some, a figure to look up to for others, a woman going where she didn't belong to still more. She'd told Bucky once she'd joined up partly from the desire to have people finally see _her._

In the end, it turned out the only one who did, and always had, was him.  

She put a hand around the back of his neck and pulled him forward to kiss him. It only lasted a moment and she drew back, but only enough to be able to look him in the eye. "Have I told you lately how much I love you?"

The worry lines around his eyes softened fractionally. "A few times, but I don't mind hearing it again."

Stephanie kissed him again, lightly, and faced the door. "What do you say we finish this?" She looked over her shoulder to see him sling his rifle into his hands, holding it at the ready behind her. "Cover my back, Sergeant."

"Always do," he retorted, apparently resigned to her recklessness.

Stephanie grinned and, together, they headed out.

***

They got back to the SSR a week later. It was well after midnight when they dragged in which meant, for once, Brandt and Cane weren't waiting for her. Her arm was pretty much healed by that time but Bucky demanded she get it looked at anyway so, with a groan of long suffering to let him know how put out she was, she went to the Medical Ward. Bucky wanted to come along but she insisted at least one of them get some sleep. It was a testament to how exhausted he'd been that he'd obeyed and stumbled off toward his quarters.

The nurse on duty checked her arm over and pronounced it was fine and probably wouldn't even scar. Going by the look on her face, Stephanie had a feeling the other woman didn't fully believe the thin, near scratch on her arm had been an open, gaping wound just a week earlier. Stephanie thanked her and left, deciding to return to her own quarters for the night rather than risk waking Bucky by going to his.

She got to her room and slid her key into the lock, covering a yawn with one hand as she did. She'd been wearing her uniform so long it felt melded to her body and was liberally covered in dirt, ash and dried sweat. She'd been dreaming of her shower and fresh clothes for days now and couldn't wait to get in and clean up.

She grabbed her doorknob, only to frown in confusion as it failed to turn, signaling it was locked. With a shake of her head to clear it, she tried again, figuring she must be more tired than she thought to have somehow messed up unlocking her own door.

The handle turned easily enough on the second try and she shoved the door open, only to suck in a gasp of shock at the sight of William Cane seated on the end of her bed. He was dressed in lounge pants and a loose shirt and appeared to have only been awake a short time.

"Lady Liberty, welcome back."  His eyes openly traveled the length of her body before settling somewhere on her chest. "I must say I prefer the skirt and tights over the bathing in mud look." He leered at her. "Not that I'm adverse to bathing, mind you."

Stephanie's stomach twisted and she stepped further into the room, leaving the door open behind her. "What the hell are you doing in my room?"

He raised an eyebrow and pushed up to a standing position. He was taller than she was and, given how he was standing, Stephanie wondered if he often used his height to try and intimidate other people.

Unfortunately for him, she'd rarely been intimidated by those larger than her and certainly not when she was royally pissed off.

"Now, now," he said, sauntering forward. "Is that any way to talk to a personal friend of Senator Brandt?"

"It is when he's violated my privacy," Stephanie said shortly. Her hands clenched into fists and she struggled to get her breathing under control. She felt lightheaded and her temples throbbed as her blood nearly boiled in her veins. "Now get out."

He shrugged and walked to her doorway, standing in the entrance and watching her. "Typical woman," he said, loudly. "Always a tease. You're the one who invited me here."

Stephanie's eyes widened. "What are you talking about? I did no such thing. I only just arrived."

"Of course you did," Cane said, his voice still overly loud. "You sent it by note, just a few hours ago."

Stephanie gaped at him. She had sent a note, to Phillips to let him know they were nearly home. "You're a liar," she said, "and you damn well know it."

Her own voice had risen in volume as she spoke and now she heard the clear sound of a door opening somewhere in the hall. Her stomach dropped. The SSR had focused the brunt of their money on fighting Hydra. Only a minimal amount had gone to comfort meaning most of the rooms had thin walls with little soundproofing, particularly around the doors.

Cane smirked. "Don't worry about it. You're tired, I get it. We'll reschedule."

He turned on one heel and left before she could respond and she heard him start whistling as he headed down the hall.

She stood frozen where she was, still breathing hard with her hands clenched in fists at her side. She could chase after him but all it would do was cause a bigger scene and accomplish nothing.

She let out a strangled sound and moved forward to close her door, only barely managing to not slam it as she did.

She turned around and shut her eyes, nausea rising in her throat.

He'd been in her _room_. Not only that but he'd clearly gotten a key which meant he could come and go as he pleased. There was no way she could take a shower now, or go to sleep.

She swallowed, grimacing at the acrid taste in her mouth, and opened her eyes.

It was only then her eyes happened to land on her footlocker, directly in her line of sight at the end of her bed.

Her footlocker, and its clearly broken lock.

***

Stephanie pounded on Bucky's door, uncaring of how late it was or how much attention she might draw.

Inside she heard him getting up and then saw the light click on from under the door.

The knob turned and then he was standing there, wearing his dress pants and undershirt, disheveled from sleep and blinking in confusion at her. "Steph?"

Stephanie pushed past him and into the room. She was shaking, her breathing erratic and her eyes wide.

Bucky shut the door and she grabbed his forearms before he could put his hands on her waist.

"He was in my room," she started frantically. "He was in my room and he made a scene and now everyone is going to think I wanted him there and he -- and he--"

Her breathing increased until she was almost hyperventilating, spots dancing in front of her eyes as her lungs struggled for oxygen.

"Stephanie." Bucky got his hands free and put them on her shoulders. "Hey!" he barked and she jumped and snapped her eyes up to his. "Breathe," he commanded, demonstrating the slow, deep breaths he wanted. "Come on, Darling. Breathe." He leaned forward to rest his forehead against hers and lightly began to run his hands up and down her arms, the motion rhythmic and soothing, and very familiar.  

When they were younger she'd used to have asthma attacks or, even worse, there would be times when she'd be sick and fighting to breathe, air rattling in her lungs. The struggle had been exhausting, and the feel of slowly drowning combined with the fear of not being able to take another breath panic inducing. The only thing that could calm her down and convince her to keep breathing, keep fighting, in those moments would be Bucky, curled up in bed facing her, forehead pressed to hers, softly telling her to breathe, just one breath, and then just one more, and one more after. He'd put his hands on her shoulders and run them along her arms slowly, exactly as he was doing now.

She closed her eyes and leaned in against him. Her hands moved to his waist and she looped her fingers in his belt loops while he kept running his hands along her arms. Slowly her breathing started to slow and her lungs loosened until, finally, she sucked in a sharp gasp and then let it out carefully and slowly as he wanted.

She moved her hands to grab fistfuls of his shirt and pressed against him, lowering her head to rest against his shoulder. He looped his arms around her waist and clasped them together at the small of her back.

"All right," he said, finally. "What happened? Who was in your room?"

"Cane," Stephanie said softly. "He made a scene, acted like I'd invited him there and then changed my mind. People heard."

Bucky didn't respond and Stephanie sighed and drew back. She lowered her hands to the belt loops at the front of his pants again, hooking her fingers through and using them to tug him a bit forward and then push him back again. She focused on his collarbone and felt her shoulders slump in defeat as she said, "he took my ring." It had only taken a few seconds to realize it once she'd opened her footlocker. Her letters, from Bucky and his parents and from Tony, appeared to have been rifled through as well but they hadn't been the most important thing to her. "I had it in my locker," she said in nearly a whisper, tugging him closer again. "He broke it and took my ring." The ring _mattered_ to her. Bucky had chosen it for her. He didn't have a lot of money so it might not be the biggest or shiniest ring but he'd gone out and searched for it and used what little money he _did_ have to buy it for her. He could have given her the cheapest thing he could find, or nothing at all, but he'd done his best to get her something he thought she'd like to the best of his ability.

The ring mattered, and Cane had taken it from her and she had no idea how to get it back. If she confronted him he'd either mock her, suggest something disgusting or drive her past the point of caring whether or not she wound up in prison.

Bucky carefully broke off the embrace and leaned in to lightly kiss her. "Stay here," he said gently when he pulled away. He started to turn toward the door but stopped when Stephanie grabbed his hand and wrapped her other arm around his bicep.

"What are you going to do?" she asked, a mix of worry and fear in her voice.

He wrapped his arms around her and dragged her up against his body. He kissed her with an intensity that had her clinging to his arm and hooking her other arm around his neck. She rose on her toes to try and get closer and moved her arm from his bicep to wrap around his back, digging her fingers into the muscle of his shoulder. When he broke off the kiss, still holding her close, she sucked in a harsh breath and rested her forehead against his as she caught her breath.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked.

Stephanie sighed and nudged his head back to search his eyes. "Don't leave me," she whispered.

He kissed her again and then he was gone, the door shutting with a click behind him. Stephanie stood where she was for a long time, her arms wrapped around her torso and her fingers digging into her arms. Part of her wanted to follow him, even though she knew Brandt would never back down in front of a woman, even if she could throw him through a concrete wall if she wished. She also couldn't do it to Bucky. If she barged in she'd be telling him she didn't trust him, and proving Brandt right. Bucky was an adult and capable of taking care of himself and certainly didn't need her babysitting him or trying to somehow force him into the direction she wanted him to go.

And, besides, he'd promised he wouldn't leave her.

He'd promised, and Bucky Barnes kept his promises.

She nodded to herself, even if it didn't do much to calm her because Bucky always kept his promises but he was also not necessarily in a rational state of mind at the moment, and forced herself to walk into the bathroom.

Once there she peeled off her grime covered field costume and stepped into the shower. She turned it as hot as she could stand it but it didn't stop the violent shaking or do anything to relax her muscles which were wound so tightly around her bones it was a wonder they didn't snap.

She put off getting out for some time because, as long as the shower was running, she could pretend Bucky had come back and she just hadn't heard him over the noise of the water.

The temperature cooled eventually, from hot to tepid and finally to downright freezing and she was forced to turn it off. Silence fell and she knew at once Bucky hadn't come back.

She stepped out and dried off, braided her hair back and then, with the towel wrapped around her body, walked into his room. She went to his footlocker and found his extra dress shirt, took it back into the bathroom and dropped the towel to slide it on and button it up.

Then she padded barefoot into the room once again, flicked the light off and, though every fiber of her being screamed at her not to, climbed into the bed. She curled on her side, stayed like that a moment, and then almost violently reached out to grab his pillow. She wrapped herself around it, rested her chin on it, and waited for Bucky to come back.

It was hard, so damn hard. Things were going south, had gone south, and she had to ignore it, let someone else handle it.

It wasn't in her nature, not even a little and certainly not when it involved her best friend.

As much as she intended to stay awake until he returned she'd been every bit as exhausted as he had. The adrenaline boost she'd gotten from seeing Cane in her room drained away and her body reminded her that, enhanced or not, it still needed some sleep.

She didn't intentionally fall asleep, or even realize that she had. One minute she was staring into the darkness, and the next she was opening her eyes to the dim, automatic lighting the base used to try and simulate daylight.

Her heart jolted and she jerked upright with a gasp. She looked down and found the bed next to her neatly made, and the room beyond silent and empty. She started to panic, until her mind registered something in her hand, her fingers curled tightly around it.

She looked down, uncurled her fingers, and nearly burst into tears at the sight of her ring laying in her palm. She lifted her eyes to search the room again and, this time, caught sight of the pile of clothes folded neatly on the desk. Getting up, she walked over to find a fresh change of clothing from her quarters, as well as a note in Buckys' handwriting telling her he'd headed to the Mess Hall.

A glance at the clock showed she still had time to make it for breakfast if she hurried. She dressed as fast as she could, taking an extra minute to add the ring to the chain around her neck that held Bucky's dog tags, and left the room, heading in a straight line toward the Mess Hall. A few people gave her odd looks as she passed but she ignored them, focusing on her goal with a single-minded purpose.

When she reached the Mess Hall she spotted the Commandos seated at a table in the back. Peggy was with them...and so was Bucky.  

A weight she hadn't realized she was carrying lifted off her shoulders and Stephanie sagged in relief. She strode over, barely restraining herself from a full out run, gently grabbed him by the hair and tugged his head back to lean down and kiss him full on the lips, discretion be damned.

Several of the Commandos gave low whistles of approval and she raised her head to glare at them before straightening to go get her food. Bucky pushed back from his chair and stood, pulling out the chair next to him for her. "I'll get it, go ahead and sit."

Stephanie nodded in thanks and sat down as he slid the chair forward for her. She then twisted to watch him as he headed toward the line.

"You'll be happy to know," Peggy said casually, catching her attention, "Brandt and his little lap dog unexpectedly decided to leave last night. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

"Not a thing," Stephanie said truthfully.

"That ain't the only good news of the day," Dum Dum broke in suddenly. "Tell her, Agent Carter."

"We still have no idea on the location of Schmidt's secret base," Peggy said, "but we've been hearing some good intel on Zola lately."

Bucky returned, setting down a full plate and a cup of coffee in front of Stephanie before taking his seat once again. Stephanie caught one of his hands under the table as he pulled his chair, interlaced their fingers in a tight grip, and held it while she started to eat. "How good?" she asked Peggy.

"Good enough to plan a mission around," Peggy said, looking excited. "We've got solid information Schmidt is sending him on some sort of top secret mission, and we've got the route. It'll take a day or two to plan and get everything in place but, once we do--"

"Zola has a very bad day," Bucky cut in.

"That's wonderful," Stephanie said with feeling. Six bases down and now the possibility of grabbing Zola. If all went well they'd find the location of the final base from him and take it out as easily as they'd done the previous six. Then Bucky would be safe and she'd be rid of the ever-present worry that Schmidt was going to find out about him.

The others, who'd been there quite a bit longer than she had, soon finished and excused themselves. Bucky was done by then too but he simply went and got a second cup of coffee and returned to nurse it while she ate.

Stephanie waited until everyone was gone and then lifted her eyes to look at Bucky.

He grinned at her. "You want to know how to beat a rich, powerful asshole?"

He was clearly very pleased with himself so Stephanie played along. "How?"

His grin turned smug. "You find someone who's richer, and more powerful, and who happens to be the biggest, and primary, weapons supplier to the military in a time of war."

Stephanie blinked in surprise. "Howard?" With a start, she remembered Peggy mentioning how Howard had never suffered any consequences at all for having effectively highjacked a plane to fly her behind enemy lines and drop her off.

Bucky raised his cup as if toasting her. "Howard."

Stephanie's eyes narrowed in suspicion. He was far too gleeful for having simply unleashed Howard Stark. "What did you do?"

Bucky set his cut down and to raise one hand and absently curl his fingers, examining his knuckles. "Nothing much," he said casually. "I simply expressed my clear displeasure over the harassment of my wife." He raised his eyes and gave her a bright look. "Oh, and I got your ring back."

"Bucky," Stephanie started to say, worry in her tone but he cut her off.

"It's fine," he said, his voice almost dripping with self-satisfaction. "The military isn't going to risk crossing Howard, not when they need his weapons." He leaned back in the chair and folded his arms behind his head. "Turns out Brandt doesn't enjoy being in our position near as much as he enjoys being in Howard's."

Stephanie shook her head at his antics. "My hero," she said with a smile, and not a trace of sarcasm. She wrapped her free hand around her tags and ring for a minute and then let them fall back under her shirt to rest against her collarbone again. "Thank you, Bucky."

"I wish I'd thought of it sooner," he said, leaning forward to put his hands on the table. "I'm sorry it took so long."

"It's not like I thought of it either," Stephanie said. "And who cares so long as it worked? I'm glad they're gone."

"Me too," Bucky said. "Once this is all over and done with I suggest you drop the Lady Liberty thing all together, get out from under Brandt's thumb entirely."

"I think that's a fantastic idea," Stephanie agreed fervently. She frowned, a new thought occurring to her. "On an unrelated note, I'll be staying in your room from now on." Just the thought of either of those men having been in her room was such a violation of her privacy that she knew there was no way she could stay there without feeling the place was contaminated. There was also the fact she had no idea how Cane had gotten a key, or from whom, and that left her with the uneasy feeling that, at any moment, someone else could come waltzing in.

Bucky shrugged. "I have no problem with that." He gave her a rakish grin. "Especially if you promise to wear my shirt to sleep in again."

Stephanie felt herself flush and looked down in embarrassment. She found her mind going to a specific box under her bed and, if anything, felt her face go even hotter. She gave Bucky a mischievous grin and said, "actually, I think I might have something you'll like even better."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh, and what's that?"

Stephanie made a show of turning away from him to pick up her coffee cup again. "For that," she teased, "you'll have to wait for tonight."

He groaned and let his head dramatically fall onto his arm where it lay on the table. Stephanie giggled at his theatrics and said, "don't worry, it'll be worth the wait, I think. You'll see."

"Fine," he muttered. "I'll wait, but I won't like it."

"Oh, I think you will." Stephanie took a sip of her coffee, the future suddenly laid out bright before her. Brandt and Cane were gone, Zola's capture was imminent and the fall of Hydra was on the horizon.

Bucky was still grumbling to himself and she took a second to lean over and kiss him before returning to her coffee. "Shush," she ordered, affectionally. "I'm in a good mood and you're going to ruin it. You need to learn patience."

"We both already know that's not one of my virtues," Bucky grumbled.

"Like I said," Stephanie promised. "It'll be worth the wait."

Bucky didn't stop grumbling but he did wait and, as Stephanie had promised, it was, indeed, worth the wait.

Bucky Barnes, after all, wasn't the only one who kept his promises.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	26. Chapter 26

It took several days to verify the intel Peggy had gathered and work out a viable way to use the information to capture Zola.

With little to do but wait, Bucky and Stephanie used the period to simply spend time with one another.

Stephanie had held a mild worry in the back of her mind that she and Bucky might not work as well together when there was nothing left to fight. They'd worked fine as friends, and great as lovers so far but they hadn't exactly come together under normal circumstances. They were at war, their lives in constant danger with long stretches where they were forced to set aside their relationship and be little more than comrades in arms. Most of the time they did spend together as husband and wife was in short bursts between missions and often as they planned or trained for future missions.  

The few days spent waiting for Peggy constituted the first time the two of them had nothing at all to do, no missions to plan or prepare for, no Cane or Brandt to have to deal with, there weren't even any Lady Liberty shoots scheduled. The last one Stephanie felt was a deliberate act of kindness by the producers who couldn't have failed to miss how Brandt had treated her. In any event, the sudden open schedule left nothing but hours of empty space stretching out before her and Bucky and Stephanie's fear had been the proverbial cracks in their relationship would start to show. She worried she and Bucky would start to irritate one another or argue or, worse yet, regret their choices.

It was a dim fear she'd carried with her since their relationship had changed and, as such, it was a massive relief to discover her fears were completely unfounded.

If anything, she and Bucky were _better_ as a couple than they had ever been as simply friends _._

Bucky was at far greater ease with her now that he wasn't afraid of somehow giving himself away. Stephanie had never even realized he'd ever held himself back until she saw how he acted when he wasn't. Wasn't constantly worried that every time he touched her or came near her he'd somehow overstep himself and the true depths to which he loved her.

And he did love her. There was no question in her mind about that, no worry or concern, and zero care when a woman on the street or in a bar tried making eyes at him. Bucky only saw her, just as she only saw him.

It drove the rest of the Commandos to exasperation. The first day the lot of them decided to go sightseeing, as much as one could in a city still rebuilding from the Blitz and at constant threat of future attacks. The Commandos lasted all of two hours before announcing Bucky and Stephanie were going to give them all tooth decay and splitting off on their own.

Almost as soon as they were gone Bucky grabbed her around the waist and hoisted her up in the air to spin her around in a circle. It was something they'd used to do when she was smaller, before the serum. She'd always held a jealousy of other kids that could ride their bikes or play on swing sets, an experience denied her due to her illness and overall weakness. Bucky had improvised, picking her up and spinning her a time or two, not enough to make her sick, but enough to try and give her a similar sensation to how he claimed it felt to ride a bike or soar high on a swing. As she'd done then, Stephanie arched back in his arms and threw her arms out, closing her eyes as he spun.  

He set her back on her feet and she opened her eyes again to see the two of them being given bemused looks by the handful of other people out and about on the street. Bucky caught her attention by giving her a chaste, public approved, kiss and then saying, "so, how do you like London?" He gave a cocky grin and added, "didn't I say I'd take you to see the world some day?"

"So you did." Stephanie draped her hands loosely over his shoulders and leaned in to kiss him again, in a slightly less public approved manner, though only slightly less. "Though, technically, I think I've taken you to see more by now. Those Hydra bases were scattered all over the damn place."

He snorted. "I'm talking about places where people aren't actively trying to kill us."

"So critical," Stephanie teased. She spotted a small cafe that appeared to still be open and operating and grabbed Bucky's hand. "Come on, let's go get lunch."

After lunch, they wandered about the rest of the city and returned to SSR headquarters just as the sun was touching the horizon. It was a perfect day, as were the few that came after it. True to her word, Stephanie moved permanently into Bucky's room, unable to go back to her own after it Cane had been in it. It was just such a deep violation, not to mention the humiliation at the thought of him potentially having gone through, or touched, everything in the room as well as everything she owned. She couldn't bring herself to even set foot back in it and had Bucky retrieve her belongings from her footlocker and bring them back to store alongside his things in his locker. She could only imagine what people would say about her openly moving into her married lover's room, as far as they knew, but there was just no way around it. She couldn't go back, and certainly not when she still didn't know how Cane had even come by a key to her room.

Bucky, of course, had no problem with her sleeping exclusively in his room, particularly when he realized she had both the alternate costume Howard had made her _and_ the Lady Liberty costume she used in photo shoots.  

The days flew past and, before she knew it, Phillips was summoning them to let them in on the plan they had to capture Zola.

Stephanie blamed how relaxed she was for bursting into laughter when she heard it.

***

"Didn't Peggy say something about working out a viable plan?" Dum Dum asked, leaning against the ice-covered rock face of the cliff they stood on. "I distinctly seem to recall the word viable being thrown about."

Stephanie gave a small, half smile from where she stood near the edge. The air was positively biting and the wind bracing, making her wonder how much worse her men must be feeling the effects if it was enough to bother her. "What's wrong, Dum Dum? Don't think you can do it?"

"There's a big difference between the ability to do something and whether you _should_ do something," his voice returned dryly and she chuckled.

From beside her, Bucky asked, "Remember when I made you ride the Cyclone at Coney Island?"

"Yeah," Stephanie said, not looking at her husband, "and I threw up."

Bucky leaned over to look down into the gully they were standing over. On the other side stood another mountain with train tracks somehow built right into the edge. Over their heads a rope had been tied leading from where they stood to just over those tracks.  

"This isn't payback, is it?" Bucky asked, giving her a sidelong look.

Stephanie grinned. "Now would I do something like that?"

"Yes," Bucky said without hesitation.

She snorted. "I didn't even come up with this plan. Peggy did."

"And I'm sure you had nothing to do with it," Bucky retorted dryly.

"We were right," Jim said from behind them. He was crouched next to a radio, listening to chatter. "Dr. Zola's on the train."

"After all effort we went too, he'd better be," Dum Dum muttered. He'd come to stand alongside them, while the rest of her men were spread out behind her.

Bucky stepped even closer to the edge, straining to see if he could spot the bottom of the ravine.

"Get any closer and you'll be the Flattened Soldier instead of the Winter Soldier," Dum Dum quipped.

The other Commandos snickered and even Stephanie bit back a grin. Bucky cast a long-suffering look at the sky and said, "Really? I thought we agreed to drop that after I kicked your ass in training."

"Sorry, Barnes," Gabe spoke up, "that ain't ever dying."

Stephanie choked on a laugh and Bucky mock glared at her. "Don't you start."

"Sorry," Stephanie said, giggling. "It was pretty funny."

Shortly before they'd left Peggy had mischievously told them about a new bit of information she'd picked up. While Stephanie had started cutting back on how often Bucky appeared in her most recent photo shoots she hadn't been able to do anything about the photos already taken. The producers had amassed quite a pile of them and released them sporadically, keeping the demand for them high as well as maintaining the air of mystery about Bucky that his fans seemed to like so much.

The most recent picture released had been one of the very rare solo photos featuring Bucky alone without her in it. He'd been wearing his overcoat and had been outdoors standing in the snow with more snow dusted over his shoulders and head.

According to Peggy, his fans had gone wild over it and had, as Bucky was known to them only as the Soldier, dubbed it the Winter Soldier photo in their discussions about it.

"They should do a calendar," Dum Dum continued. "They could do the whole year, Winter Soldier, Spring Soldier, Summer Soldier and Fall Soldier."

"I will kill you," Bucky threatened with a growl while, next to him, Stephanie was nearly doubled over with laughter.

She straightened and grew serious when she heard Gabe, who'd taken the headphones to the radio, break in. "He's been given permission to open up the throttle. Wherever he's going, they must need him bad."

Her mood still high, Stephanie smiled at her husband and said, cheerfully, "I get a personal joy in derailing Schmidt's plans."

"Always nice when you can take joy in your work," he agreed.

"If you two are done flirting," Falsworth broke in dryly, lowering a pair of binoculars he held, "the train is coming, fast."

Stephanie nodded and grabbed the handle they'd improvised for their equally crude zipline. It was little more than an old bike handle welded to a carabiner but it'd get the job done. She hooked it over the rope and grabbed the handles.

She felt her helmet plop onto her head and looked to see Bucky standing next to her, looking resigned.

"Because if I fall the helmet will protect me?" Stephanie asked dryly.

"Humor me," he replied. "I'm still not sold on this plan."

Stephanie shrugged. "Peggy wouldn't have suggested it if she didn't think it was safe." When he gave her an incredulous look she sighed and amended, "Okay, she wouldn't have suggested it if she didn't think we were up to it."

As she finished speaking, she caught sight of the train, racing into view around the mountain.

"We only have about a ten second window," she said, raising her voice to reach all her men. "It starts the second I take off. You get to the edge and it's past ten, even if it's just ten and a half or eleven, you don't go." She locked eyes with them, making sure they were listening. "I've gotten this far without losing any of you. I don't intend to let that change now."

She looked toward the train again and let out a breath, trying to calm her nerves. Then, before her common sense could talk her out of it, she stepped forward, tightened her grip on the handlebar, and jumped off the edge.

It took her all of ten seconds to realize she adored zip lining. The air rushed past her, freezing cold, but exhilarating at the same time and the rush of adrenaline had her almost laughing out loud.

The line brought her low over the train just as it passed by and, with a mental prayer, she let go. Her boots hit the roof of the train and she went into a crouch to keep her balance. A look over her shoulder showed Bucky landing on the car behind her. She sent him a bright grin and he shook his head, mouthing "you're insane" back to her.

Stephanie didn't deny it. She looked past him to see Gabe landing safely and, behind him...no one. A glance further up showed the rapidly dwindling silhouettes of the rest of her men still safely on the mountain ledge. They must have missed the ten second window. Stephanie nodded to herself, glad they'd followed her orders.

She motioned for the two she had to follow her and started moving along the train cars. It would make the most sense, she thought, that Zola would be in the first train car, just behind the engine. She had no desire to jump down into a car full of his security, however, so she stopped at the second car, just near the ladder. Hopefully they could sneak in and make their way to the first car from there. Bucky and Gabe knelt near her and she motioned for Gabe to continue, toward the engine. There should only be the one man in there, running the train. They weren't going to be getting off while the thing was moving which meant they'd need to take control. She and Bucky could secure Zola while Gabe did that.

He nodded that he understood, the howling wind too strong to be heard over if he tried to speak, and started moving again, toward the engine.

Stephanie reached the door and grabbed the edges, her fingers already so numb from the frigid air she almost couldn't feel them. She pulled it open and, in one quick motion, flung herself inside, dropping into a defensive position with her shield on her arm. Bucky came in a second behind her and she covered him as he closed the door. As soon as he was done she focused on the car, tensing as she waited for an attack.

No attack came and she frowned, her eyes darting about the car.

It was empty.  

A feeling of dread settled in her stomach. She'd been hoping for less resistance in the second car but hadn't expected to see no one at all. She pulled her gun out and held it loosely, keeping her shield up with the other. Of late, Bucky had been pushing for her to use it more, even if it was only to shoot her enemy in the leg and ensure they were out of commission. Bucky held his own gun at the ready, covering her from the back as they moved forward.

The car they'd come into was bisected into two separate compartments with a door between them. There was a shelf running the center of the one they'd come into, filled with boxes containing who knew what. The second compartment appeared to be missing the shelving and instead had containers stacked haphazardly along the walls. She could see the door leading into the first train car at the far end of that second compartment but was too far away to see through the glass partition to what lay beyond.

As they reached the door bisecting the two compartments, Stephanie raised her shield to protect her body in the fear that something could be hiding just past the door and to the side. Her breathing sounded loud in her own ears and she couldn't shake the feeling that somehow, someway, they'd made a terrible mistake.

She jumped through the doorway into the second half quickly, eyes searching the compartment.

The door slid shut behind her.

No. NoNoNoNoNoNoNo.

Pure terror surged through her system as she whirled to see Bucky, his eyes wide with shock and his face pale, trapped on the other side of the glass, still in the first half of the car. She lunged forward, ready to break through with her bare hands if necessary, only to come up short as a second door, on her compartment, slid shut right in front of her face, cutting her off even farther from her husband.

Dear God, Stephanie thought, please no.

As she watched, Bucky suddenly whirled around, his weapon snapping up and opening fire. She couldn't see what he was facing but saw flashes from the other end of the compartment as someone fired back. She gave a moan through clenched teeth and slammed her palm against the glass. She shouldn't have allowed so much space between them, her mind screamed at her. She lifted her shield and slammed it into the glass as hard as she could. The strength of the blow vibrated through her arm, pain following in its wake, but she barely noticed as she examined the window.

Her breath caught in her throat at the thin crack in the grass, barely more than a line. Not possible. Her shield was the strongest material on the planet and she was the strongest woman and it was just not possible that a _goddamn piece of glass was going to keep her from saving her husband._

A noise came from behind her and she whirled to see a man in a massive armored suit coming out of the door leading into the first train car, a weapon the size of a cannon held in one hand.

"I don't have time for you," Stephanie said, her words nearly a snarl, raising her pistol toward him. The man clearly did not care. A high-pitched whine came from the weapon he held and then a ray of brilliant blue light was coming right at her. Stephanie barely got her shield up in time to block it. The beam hit her shield straight on and slammed her back into the wall, hard enough to draw a grunt of pain from her as he hit. The gun was knocked from her hand as she hit and skittered across the floor, landing well on the other side.

The beam vanished and she threw herself, rolling and coming up behind some of the stacked boxes, just as a second beam came at her.  

No time, her mind chanted at her. No time, no time, no _time_. As far as she knew Bucky was being attacked by the same type of weapon, maybe even more than one, and all he had on him was a rifle and a pistol, both with a limited number of bullets. She could hear the distant sound of gunfire from behind her, through the two doors where he was, and held onto it like a lifeline. If it was still going on it meant he was still alive, still fighting.

It wasn't going to last, however. He was going to run out of bullets and then...she shook her head desperately as if by getting rid of the thought it would guarantee it never happened. She'd already lived in a world without Bucky Barnes. She couldn't do it again.

Never again.

The laser beam stopped and she threw herself out blindly before her mind could process what a truly bad idea it probably was. She'd spotted a hook hanging from the ceiling earlier and leapt up to grab it. It was attached to a rail running the length of the compartment and she sent it flying with a single, violent shove, right at the guy. As she'd hoped, it distracted him just as he was trying to fire at her. He jerked back to dodge and the beam misfired wildly, aimed at nothing.

Part of the blast came at her and she blocked it. She sprinted down the car, pushed off and slammed both boots into the man's chest with all the force she could muster. He went down and, without hesitation, she slammed the edge of her shield into the side of his head. He went limp and she almost lunged at the cannon strapped to his arm. She got it off, twisted on the knee she was leaning on, and fired at the closed door blocking her from Bucky.

It blew right off and she was up, leaving the weapon behind as she ran for the second door just past the first, barely pausing for the extra second it took to retrieve her pistol. She couldn't risk using the cannon thing on the second door as she knew Bucky was very close to where it would blow off and she couldn't risk him getting hurt.

She looked through the window and saw Bucky barely a foot or so away, crouching behind some containers stacked along the wall. He'd already run out of ammunition for his rifle and was relying on his handgun. Judging by the look on his face he was nearly out of ammunition for that too.

Stephanie cast about desperately for a way to get through the second door and almost cried with relief at the sight of the door controls. She saw the remnants of the ones for her own door on the wall just on the other side of the tiny corridor between car sections. Set as they were it made it impossible for him to open his door, or for her to have opened hers, but she could easily open his without any problem.

She slapped the button and the door slid open, the smell of gunpowder immediately hitting her. She caught Bucky's attention, the relief on his face at seeing her matching how she felt at seeing him, and tossed him the gun. He caught it and Stephanie threw herself into the room, the shield up and ready. Bullets pinged off it but it didn't matter. In that brief instance where she'd come into the room she'd already caught sight of the single attacker, and his location on the far end of the car. She jerked forward and slammed her shield into one of the many boxes stacked in the center of the car. It hit another which, in turn, flew toward the attacker. The man dodged it, which put him perfectly in line with Bucky who was standing just behind Stephanie, covered by her shield. He leaned around it and fired once, and the room fell silent.  

Stephanie lowered the shield, her breathing harsh and her body shaking from a mixture of adrenaline and fear.  

"I had them on the ropes," she heard Bucky say, trying to lighten the situation. He was bone white and Stephanie could see the slightest tremor in his hand. He wasn't stupid. He knew full well how close he'd just come to dying.

"I know you did," Stephanie managed to say. She wanted desperately to hug him for perhaps the next hour or two but there was no time. This was a trap. They'd been set up. Hydra had known they were coming, had planned for it, and if that was true then it meant Gabe could be in just as much danger as they had been. They needed to get to the engine.

Bucky nodded and opened his mouth to speak...just as the high-pitched sound of a weapon powering up came from behind them.

"Look out!" Stephanie yelled, recognizing the sound. She spun, shoved Bucky behind her and barely got her shield up as the man from her side of the car, the one she hadn't insured was dead or incapacitated after taking him out, fired.

The blast hit her shield before she was ready and the punch threw her right off her feet. She flew like a rag doll and hit the side of the train hard enough to knock the air out of her. She hit the ground hard and tried to suck in a breath but the only thing she got was a horrific, grating sound from her throat and a feeling of suffocating as her body sought to reorient itself. She reached out for her shield to try and deflect the second blast she knew was coming, only to realize it was no longer in her hand. Frigid air washed over her and she looked up to see the blast had deflected off her shield and into the opposite wall of the train, blasting it outward.

The whine came again. Stephanie saw Bucky on his hands and knees, her shield right next to him. As her lungs finally overcame the shock of her hitting the wall and she sucked in a sharp breath, she saw him get shakily to his feet. He picked her shield up, holding it unsteadily in one hand while raising his handgun with the other.

Blue light struck the shield. It spiraled out of his hand while the force of the blast sent Bucky backward, and right out the opening in the side of the train car.  

"BUCKY!" The scream was wrenched out with such force it left her throat raw. Stephanie threw herself forward, managed to grab her shield and, in an act of pure desperation, flung it blindly at her attacker. It struck him in the chest with enough force to knock him back into the other half of the train car and out of her sight. The shield rebounded off something in the other car and came back. Stephanie caught it with one hand and scrambled toward the opening, ignoring the debris and broken bits of boxes that sliced up her knees when she stumbled or the still cooling, jagged edges of the train where the blast had hit. She leaned out, one hand clutching an edge that both cut and burned her at the same time and let out a sob of relief at the sight of Bucky hanging onto a piece of metal on the side of the train. The relief lasted only a second as she realized the piece was barely attached and was vibrating wildly, threatening to snap off at any second.

Bucky's eyes were wide with fear and they were all she could see as she edged her way farther out of the train. Not the drop, not her own precarious position, just his eyes and the way they looked more terrified for what she was doing than for what was currently happening to him.

As far out as she could get, Stephanie took a deep breath and leaned, still holding onto the edge of the train with one hand. The broken metal bit deep into her hand and she grimaced at the sharp pain, praying the blood she could feel welling out wouldn't make the hold to slippery to maintain.

She held her shield out toward Bucky. There were two main straps that held it onto her arm, one on each side of the shield. She held onto one and extended the side with the other strap out toward him.  

"Grab it!" she shouted. "Hurry!"

Bucky stretched out his hand, his fingers just barely grazing the strap. Stephanie stretched as far as possible, barely holding onto the edge of the train by the tips of her bloodied fingers, trying to close the gap just a little more.  

His fingers caught the strap, just as the metal piece he was holding snapped off.

Stephanie made an involuntary noise through clenched teeth as the sudden drag on the shield jerked her forward and made it feel like her fingers were being cut off by the torn metal of the train. That was followed by a cry of pure joy as she saw Bucky still there, hanging onto the strap with one hand.  

Trying to be as careful as possible given the precarious nature of both their holds, Stephanie lifted her hand holding the shield, and her husband, enough to be able to work her hand through the strap and slide it onto her arm. As she did, Bucky managed to grab the other strap with his second hand and struggled to pull his body up enough to get his arms through until he was almost hugging it, the leather resting against his inner elbows.  

"Have I told you I love you lately?" he managed to shout, his voice partially lost in the roar of the wind.

Stephanie tried to laugh but it came out closer to a sob and it wasn't from the pain in her hand or the relief of seeing him still alive. She was shaking violently; her stomach tied in knots and she could barely see Bucky through her wavering vision.

This was her fault.

She'd almost lost her husband, and it was her fault.

She'd been criticized before, by Bucky, Howard, Peggy and others, about her reluctance to kill the enemy. Bucky and Howard had taught her to use the shield to disable instead of kill but it wasn't their first choice and they'd made that very clear.

_"You may not want to kill them but I can assure you the feeling isn't mutual. It leaves you at a disadvantage, and it may well get you or someone else killed one day if you're not careful."_

She'd had the chance to make sure her attacker was dead the first time she'd taken him down. She hadn't and Bucky had nearly died because of it.   

If Bucky had fallen, if she'd lost him...it would have been because of her.

A noise drew her attention and she felt her eyes widen in shock as she looked over her shoulder back into the train. There was movement through the door into the second half of the car. Her attacker was getting back on his feet _again_ , and she was in no position to fight him.

"Stephanie?" Bucky asked, his voice raised to a shout to be heard over the wind. She saw him shoot a nervous look to his side and followed his gaze to see a tunnel in the distance, the train racing right for it. "Going inside might be nice, Darling. Not looking forward to the bug on a windshield experience."

She risked another look over her shoulder and saw the shadow of the attacker in the doorway, the tip of his weapon leading the way.

Bucky couldn't see him. He was to low and the shield was blocking his view.

She saw him send another worried look toward the tunnel while, behind her, footsteps approached.

She could see only one way out.

It would save Bucky.

 

It would not save her.

 

Peace and an almost unnatural calm settled over her and she allowed her eyes to close for just a moment.

This was on her. She'd had the chance to kill the man. She hadn't done it and she would pay the price for that oversight.  

It was just.

It was fair.

No one else should have to pay for her mistake, and certainly never Bucky.

She looked down at Bucky and forced a smile. "I love you, James Buchanan Barnes."

She tried to put her soul and the full weight of her emotions into the statement, trying to pack a speech into six words, the first three of which were woefully inadequate when it came to describing the depths of her feelings for him. He was her champion, her protector, her lover and friend and if saving him was the only thing she ever accomplished in her life then she'd call it a life well lived.

She saw his eyes widen, a dawning look of horror in their depths.

She felt the armored man step up behind her. The, by now, familiar whine of a cannon powering up reached her ears.  

Stephanie crouched slightly and then, in a burst of movement, stood to her feet and swung her arm in an arc. It was a move that would have been physically impossible for anyone else and she sent a mental burst of gratitude toward Dr. Erskine that she was anything but normal. Pain like hot knives rippled through the nerves of her hand where she was clutching the torn metal of the train but she bit down on it and ignored it.

Bucky's body flew in a tight arc and then was sailing upwards, over her head and to the roof of the train. There'd been no time to tell him her plan so he still had a tight grip on her shield and she was forced to release it. She heard the faint clatter and thump of it and his body safely hitting the roof and let out a laugh of exultation. Bucky, at least, was safe.  

Then she turned to see the laser cannon pointed directly at her face.

"That was futile," the man said. "I'll kill him as soon as I'm done with you."

Stephanie smiled again, a decidedly less kind one this time.

"Like hell you will."

Overhead, Bucky's face appeared, his hands gripping the edges of the roof. Stephanie heard him scream her name but didn't respond.

She'd already said her farewells.

A blue glow appeared in the barrel of the cannon.

Stephanie grabbed the muzzle of the cannon, which her attacker had kindly reattached to the armor he wore on his arm...and threw herself backwards.

The two of them went off together.

Blue light shot out, the firing probably more reflex than deliberate. White hot pain blistered through Stephanie's left arm and crackled along her side, a scorching line of fire running down her side.

She screamed involuntarily, the pain so intense it briefly distracted her from the fact she'd just jumped off a train. Her attacker fell past her, his laser still firing wildly as if it could somehow save him.

Stephanie caught a brief glimpse of Bucky, mouth open in a scream she couldn't hear.

And then the train was past and she was alone.

And falling.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	27. Chapter 27

James Buchanan Barnes studied the ice cubes in his glass as if they would give him any answer he sought if he simply looked hard enough.

He'd been looking for hours but, so far, they'd refused to give him even one.

It was fine.

He didn't deserve any answers.

He sat at a table, or what was left of one, in the shattered remnants of a bar. Most of the back wall was missing and broken bits of furniture were scattered about. A fine layer of dust lay over everything like a funeral shroud and the silence was so heavy it was nearly suffocating.

If he focused, he could almost hear the faint strains of music, the chatter of a multitude of voices. His eyes flickered toward the back corner, near the bar. In the shadows was an overturned table, one leg snapped off, chairs reduced to kindling around it. In his mind, he saw the Commandos, their images almost transparent and slow as if they moved through water, gathered around an unbroken table, glasses on its surface before them, bright smiles on their faces.

In his mind's eye, he saw _her._

She was so out of place in that setting. A creature of beauty and light pulled down to the muck and mire of earth, for a short time.

He'd always known it would only be for a time.  She was a gift he'd never deserved and he'd known one day the universe would realize it and take her back.

The scene faded, leaving behind only emptiness and decay and he moved his eyes away, back to the glass in his hand.

_"I love you James Buchanan Barnes."_

A swell of grief blindsided him, bubbling up from the gaping, raw wound where a piece of his soul had been carved out and he closed his eyes against the pain, hand tightening on the glass.

 _God_ , but he'd loved her. So much he couldn't adequately convey it, couldn't think of a word that would do the least bit of justice to the depths of what he'd felt for her. Every time he thought he'd found the height of his love for her she would go and do something to open an entirely new level. He'd been quite content at the thought of making it his life's mission to try and find out just how many levels there were.

A footstep scraped through the debris near the broken doors to the bar. His eyes opened and the pain that had become a part of him retreated, back into the void leaving behind the blank nothingness he'd begun to rely on to keep him mobile. He didn't turn to see who it was, simply kept his eyes on the glass in his hand.  

Agent Carter stepped into his line of sight. "James. What are you doing here?"

"Pretending to get drunk," he said, finally lifting his head to give her a bitter grin. He wished he could get drunk, enough to forget, for just a moment, the hell his life had fallen into. He raised the glass absently, studying the amber liquid inside. Perhaps that was just his lot, though. His punishment for having been given an angel, and then being so careless as to let her fall.

He put the glass back down harder than he'd intended and it shattered, ice and alcohol washing across the dusty surface. He saw Carter flinch out of the corner of his eye but ignored it, choosing instead to watch the pool of liquid slowly make its way to the edges of the table where it ran over and fell to splatter into stillness on the concrete floor.

A sudden, overwhelming surge of anger ran through him and he grabbed the bottle that had been sitting on the table and threw it as hard as he could. It hit the bar and burst before falling to the ground in a shower of broken shards.  

A memory surfaced, kneeling at her feet to clean up broken glass in her kitchen. He'd told her he was leaving and she'd almost started crying but had turned away to hide it from him. When she'd turned back she'd had a fake smile on her face, and a false note of hope in her voice. She'd wanted him to leave in peace knowing she would be all right on her own when they'd both known she wouldn't. She hadn't been thinking of herself, only him and how he must be feeling. She was always doing that, thinking of him before herself.  

He really wished, just this once, she hadn't.

Agent Carter had followed the bottle as it'd hit the bar and was still partly turned, her eyes taking in the shield embedded halfway in the wood of the bar near where the bottle had hit.

"James," she repeated, turning back.

"Don't," he said sharply, before she could start. He leaned back, dropping his head against the back of the chair to stare up at the ceiling overhead. "I've heard it all already." How much Stephanie had loved him, how it was her choice, and a million other platitudes that didn't do a damn thing to bring his her back or lift him from the ocean of despair he was more than willing to drown in. "Just don't."

Carter hesitated. "Do you know what she did when she thought you were gone?"

He sighed and drummed his fingers on the wood, wishing she'd say whatever she'd come to say and get out. "Came and single handedly rescued me and a few hundred of my closest friends?"

"Jumped out of a plane into anti-aircraft fire in the middle of the night." Carter frowned. "Looking back on it now, I'm pretty sure that was the first time she'd ever used a parachute."

He chuckled. He'd wondered how she'd gotten there but had never gotten around to asking, in part because he'd known he wouldn't like the answer. "Sounds like her."

He sat up and leaned forward in the chair, folding his hands across his knees. "What's wrong, Agent Carter?" he asked, his voice a mix of bitterness and sarcasm. "Afraid I'm going to do something reckless to save her? Cause you see," here he leaned back and threw his arms open wide, a sick parody of a smile on his face. "I would, if it wasn't for the fact she _fell off a goddamn mountain."_

He gave a groan and let his head fall back against the headrest of the chair again. He ran his hands over his face and focused on the ceiling overhead. Portions had been blown off, giving him a clear view into the gathering twilight outside. "Why didn't I go with her?" he whispered to no one.

Carter answered anyway. "Because she would have spent her last few minutes kicking your ass for it."  

That earned her another weary chuckle. He was past exhausted, to the point he couldn't sleep even if he tried, which he didn't. He couldn't close his eyes without seeing her, couldn't relax as long as her scream wouldn't stop echoing in his ears. His appetite was gone as well, which was just fine as everything he tried to eat tasted like dust and ash in his mouth.

That first night, after they'd gotten back in silence, he'd allowed someone to guide him back to his room. They'd left him in his doorway, staring at his footlocker and bed. Eventually he'd gone and laid down but only so he could curl himself around her pillow and bury his face in it in the desperate hope of smelling some hint of her on it. He'd started crying at some point and, once he started, it was impossible to stop. He'd cried until he was dehydrated, until his eyes were swollen and his body limp from it.

"I keep seeing her," he said suddenly, desperate to talk about her to someone, anyone. His eyes lost focus and went vacant, witnessing a scene burned into his eyelids and ready to play the moment he closed his eyes. "Over and over again and I keep trying to figure out a way I could have prevented it, stopped it."

_I love you James Buchanan Barnes._

And then she was falling, taking the bastard in the armored suit with her. Blue light flared and... gorge rose in him and he dug his fingers into his temples, trying desperately, and futilely, to erase the sound of his wife's agonized scream as what looked like half of her body was incinerated. He prayed it had been quick. He prayed she hadn't still been alive, or at the very least conscious, when...he shut his eyes and dug his fingers in harder, as if he could physically bore holes into his skull to let the images in his mind spill out.   

"Could you survive it?" Agent Carter asked quietly. "If you did discover there'd been a way to save her?"

He dropped his hands to his knees, clenching them together until the knuckles turned white and the bones creaked. "No."

"Then perhaps it's best if you stop trying."

Bucky snorted. As if he could survive it now.

Carter took a breath and let it out sharply. "James, the reason I'm here -- there's a concern about how the soldiers, and the people back home, will take her loss. She was a symbol of hope to a lot of people. They're afraid of it affecting morale."

"She wasn't a damn symbol," Bucky growled, "She was a scrappy kid from Brooklyn with big dreams and a bigger mouth who didn't know enough to just stay home and stay safe."

Carter shifted and crossed her arms as if she were suddenly nervous, her shoes scraping against grit on the floor. "They want you to take up the shield," she said carefully, "give the soldiers, and the folks back home, something to believe in again. They want you to be Captain America."

Bucky lifted his head to frown at her. "Captain America," he asked in confusion. "You mean the guy they told everyone was dead?"

"There was a theory at the time that his death was a subterfuge," Carter said. "That it was faked so he could go undercover and work without fear of detection." She hesitated again and clasped her hands in front of her. "They want to verify that theory. The working idea is that the knowledge that Captain America is still alive will go far to help the public cope with the loss of Lady Liberty."

Bucky could give a rat's ass about the public coping. He frowned, zeroing in on part of what Carter had said. "What are they claiming he was doing while undercover?"

Carter looked openly nervous, not a look he'd ever seen on her, and Bucky knew immediately he wasn't going to like the answer.

"Taking out the Hydra bases," she said finally, bluntly. "They want to say that Stephanie was just a decoy, a distraction while Captain America did the real work." Her eyes cut away, her lips twisting in a grimace.

"Brandt," Bucky almost snarled, coming out of his seat to a standing position. There was no doubt in his mind who had put the idea in the heads of the military brass. Brandt ran the Lady Liberty program. He might not have the power to make any moves in the military but he certainly would have the ability to whisper in a few ears. "He convinced them to erase her." She'd faced so much resistance, the army and government never letting go of the fact that a young woman had tricked them and been given the serum instead of the man they'd wanted. "My girl," he ground out, rage building in his veins until it nearly choked him, "damn well _died_ for them and they want to _erase_ her?" He looked up at Carter, his eyes deadly. "And they expect me to help them do it?"

He'd kill them first, starting with Brandt and that snake Cane.

""I don't like it either," Carter said flatly, crossing her arms. "Colonel Phillips and I both argued about it but they're set in their course. The brass is convinced it's the best way." She gave him a dark look and, for the first time, Bucky got a brief glimpse of the grief in her eyes. She and Stephanie had been friends, close friends. He wasn't the only one suffering from her loss. "I told them you'd refuse," Carter continued, "but they said if you don't they'll find someone who will." She scowled. "Captain America always wore a mask."

"Tony was bigger than me, and taller," Bucky said sharply. "No one would believe it."

"You lost weight while in the field," Carter said, "and your height is close enough. No one is going to remember exactly how tall Tony was, just that he was tall."

Bucky shook his head. "No. No, I'm not going to let them do that to her."

"James," Carter started to say but he cut her off before she could continue.

"I'll tell them I'm enhanced," he said, "like she was."

"They'll stick you in a lab," Carter said, worried, and Bucky laughed, the sound sharp and ugly.

"They can try." He strode over to the bar and wrenched the shield out in one, quick move. "They're going to want me, and only me, and the only way they're getting it is if they change the damn narrative." His voice had gone low, and almost unnaturally calm. "You tell them that. The original Captain America died. Steph gets credit for everything she did. I'm just carrying on her legacy, not using her name out of respect." He studied the shield, holding it one hand while lightly running the other over it. "There will only ever be one Liberty."

"I'll ask them," Carter said, "but I doubt they'll listen."

"Then I'll go make the demand in person," Bucky growled. "They'll do it, or their only surviving super soldier sits out the rest of the damn war."

The words were hollow and they both knew it. There was no chance in hell Bucky could sit out, not while the bastards who'd killed his wife were still breathing. She simply nodded, however. "I'll tell them."

"She blamed herself," Bucky said suddenly, changing the topic on a whim, his eyes still focused on the shield. If he concentrated hard enough, he could almost see the woman who should be holding it, her eyes bright and full of life, a ready smile on her lips. "I could see it in her eyes." He gave a bitter, choked laugh. "What the hell was Erskine thinking? He took a woman who never wanted to hurt anyone and stuck her in a bloody war." His voice rose slightly on the last but fell again almost immediately. "She was an idealist," he said dully. "She wanted to make a difference, and Erskine took advantage. He took the last person who should ever have been in a war and put her in one and she _died_ thinking she failed!"

"I doubt she would see it the same way," Carter said gently.

Bucky laughed. "Well, she can't see it any way now can she?"

He'd always known she would die before him. The list of things that could kill her had been long. Winter, in particular, been viewed with a sense of dread because she always got sick and he knew each winter could well be her last.

He'd never been able to imagine what his life would be like without her. When he tried all he got was an empty feeling, a sense of blackness stretching onward forever.

It had always been there, that darkness, that fear. Hovering at the corner of his mind, waiting. It had started to recede just a bit after the serum, after she'd shown up with a strong, healthy body that couldn't be cut down by something as simple as the common cold.

He'd grown so enamored of the thought of her being healthy and having a normal lifespan that the blackness had started to dissipate. Its space had been replaced by hope and joy... to the extent he'd overlooked the fact that she could still be cut down.

He'd forgotten winter was still her enemy.

"I couldn't even bring her home," he said numbly. "I left her out there." He gave Carter a tortured look. "I couldn't even bury her."

They had sent search teams, spent days scouring the area around where she'd fallen but there had been no sign. The consensus was she'd fallen into a nearby river and been washed away or landed in a crevice on the mountain and never reached the bottom at all or that animals...

His mind rejected that line of thought and he clenched his teeth as his eyes started to burn.

"I'm sure her family will understand," Carter said softly.

"I'm her family," Bucky whispered. "And I don't understand any of it." He'd called his parents and sister and ended up breaking down on the phone. All he'd been able to repeat, over and over again, had been, "she didn't deserve it."

She didn't, not any of it.

  

It should have been him.

 

He'd spent his entire life protecting her, except for the one time when it had really, _truly_ mattered...and then he'd let her down.

He'd been the reason she'd fallen. If he hadn't been on that train, if he'd just died in that facility like so many others had...

His eyes went back to that far corner of the room again but, this time, all he could see was ruin.

Ruin and ever present shadow.

Carter cleared her throat and reached a hand into her pocket. "I've been meaning to give you these." She held her hand out and Bucky saw a pair of dog tags dangling by their chain from her fingers. A ring clinked against one of the tags, small and incredibly fragile, much like the woman it'd been bought for.

"She told me what happened with Cane," Carter said. "It made her afraid of losing them. She didn't want to take them on missions anymore but didn't want to just leave them either so she asked me to look after them while she was gone."

Bucky put a hand out and she dropped the chain onto his palm. He studied them a moment and then carefully pulled them on, tucking them under his shirt. His eyes found that back corner of the room again and a pile of wood that had once been a chair upon which the center of his universe had sat. He raised his left hand and brought the ring he wore on his finger to his lips. He pressed a kiss to the cold metal in silent promise, his eyes never leaving that broken chair.

He knew what Carter was thinking, but she was wrong. Stephanie had given her life to save his, to throw his own away would be an insult. He wouldn't do that, but that didn't mean he couldn't still join her, sooner rather than later. They were in a war, after all, and if there was one truth about war it was this.

People died.

He pulled the shield onto his arm. "Let's go." The longer he stayed the less time he spent personally dismantling Hydra, and the more time Stephanie had to spend waiting for him.

She'd always hated waiting.

 _Hang on, Darling,_ he thought, hoping she could hear him, wherever she was. _I'm coming. Just a little while longer._


	28. Chapter 28

_Pain._

 

 

 

It _hurt._

 

 

 

Everything...everything _hurt_...

 

 

 

 

 

Bucky?

 

 

 

Where...

 

What happened?

 

 

 

She was...cold.

 

So...

 

 

cold...

 

And it _hurt........................................................................................................................................._

 

 

The sky...

 

She was looking at...the sky...

 

Where was she?

 

 

 

Bucky?

 

 

 

She was cold...

 

 

So... cold...

 

 

 

Snow.

 

 

She was laying in snow...

 

 

 

She needed... she needed... she needed to... move...

 

She would.... frostbite... she needed...

 

but she was tired....

 

 

... tired....

 

She...

 

wanted to sleep...

 

Just... for...

 

A moment...

 

 

 

Voices.

 

 

 

She heard voices.

 

Her eyelids were so heavy....

 

She struggled to open them...

 

Haze.

 

Faces... dim.... out of focus...

 

Voices... dull... so... far away...

 

Bucky...

 

***

There were only flashes after that.

 

The sensation of being carried...

 

The bumping, jolting motion of a vehicle.

 

The return of pain. It came in waves hot, sharp bursts that radiated through her side and shoulder, like knives cutting into her flesh. In the rest of her body it was dull, and unyielding, a steady throb of never-ending anguish. It felt as if all her bones were shattered, just a mass of broken bits rattling about in a bag of flesh.

She was vaguely aware, at times, of a hard table under her back and rough hands and voices putting her back together, of screaming until she lost her voice, until the only thing that came out was a harsh, guttural croak... until she finally, blessedly, would fall back unconscious.

 

But it never lasted.

 

She always woke up again.

 

Always.

 

***

 

She was hot.

_Hot._

 

It felt like she was on fire, liquid flame running through her veins.

 

She couldn't breathe. She struggled to pull in air but there was none... and it was so _hot_...

 

Voices.

 

Ice cold water surrounded her and she panicked, lashing out. Hands grabbed her, holding her head up, above the water, but keeping her body under.

A mask was fitted over her face, cool oxygen flooding into her lungs and she grabbed it in desperation, sucking in one deep breath, and then another.

The adrenaline faded and she sagged into the water, hand falling away from the mask. The fire in her veins banked to a dull warmth and the brief clarity gave way back to the fog.

_Bucky._

 

***

 

"I can't believe she survived. It's not natural."

"Have you seen who you work for?"

A laugh. "True enough. It's amazing what you can get used to."

"Speak for yourself."

 

A table.

She was laying on... a table.

It was hard underneath her back and legs.

 

She felt... pain, but not to the degree she had been feeling it. It was a dull ache, a sharp blade here and there... but not what it had been.

 

"Bucky."

The word was a rasp, her lips dry and cracked, her throat dry.

"Bucky."

 

"There she goes again."

"Who or what the hell is Bucky?"

"Damned if I know. Maybe it's her dog."

Another laugh. "She's barely conscious and you think she's calling for her dog?"

"Hey, I don't judge. Some people love their pets. What else could it be?"

"Maybe it's that shield."

"You think she named it Bucky? Why?"

"People are weird. Who knows why they do anything that they do?"

"True."

 

White ceiling overhead. Bright lights shining in her eyes.

Two faces leaning over her, one on either side.

 

Not Bucky.

 

Didn't know... who Bucky was...

 

One leaned closer and she willed her hand to raise and wrap around his throat. She couldn't... let the enemy... live. She forgot why... but it was important. She had... had to...

 

There was a hand wrapped around the man's throat.

 

A hand... but it wasn't hers...

 

It was... silver... metal...

 

What?

 

The second form moved closer and a mask was held over her nose and mouth. A sweet smell flooded her nostrils...

 

The silver hand dropped...and darkness carried her away..............................................................


	29. Chapter 29

Bucky stood under the shadow of a tree while Dugan muttered under his breath and peered through his binoculars. His target was a large mansion set in the middle of an equally big estate. Manicured lawns covered with lush grass rippled out in all directions, carefully sectioned off by pebbled paths and ornate paving stones. One area, bordered by small hedges, held a garden while another nearby had a large pool surrounded by lounge chairs.

The mansion itself was several stories, made of rough stone hewn and placed long before the Industrial Age had kicked into gear. The entrance itself was a large archway that opened onto a cobblestone circle big enough to have once allowed horse drawn carriages to drop off guests and leave again with little trouble. A fountain dominated the center, the water currently shut off leaving the marble statues of dolphins leaping into air looking as if they were committing suicide rather than playing cascading water as they would if the thing were on.

There were several cars parked around the fountain but, as they'd arrived late thanks to Morita's inability to tell his right from his left, the occupants had gone inside before they could be identified. It could be, as the intel had suggested, a Hydra safe house currently being used for a meeting of high ranked operatives.

Or they could be looking at a normal residence hosting a bridge club.

Dugan swore under his breath. "I can't see anything. If they're in there, they weren't kind enough to sit near a window."

Bucky glanced toward the rest of the Commandos, scattered about him behind other trees in the small park the obscenely wealthy owner had put in because he apparently lacked common sense when it came to security or fire hazards.

"Nothing," Morita hissed from a branch just over his head, putting down his own binoculars. "I can't see anything. No telling what the hell is going on in there."

Almost casually, Bucky crouched and grabbed the shield resting against his leg. He stood again and strapped it onto his arm as Dugan said, "back up will be here soon. We can surround the house then and--"

His voice trailed off as Bucky strode right past him, a fixed look on his face.

"What the hell?" Gabe hissed from nearby. "Sarge, where are you going?"

"Where do you think?" Bucky growled, walking straight out into the open. A hot sun beat down from overhead and he found his mind wandering, as it always did, to a quiet mountainside. He wondered if the sun was out there too, if it was hot enough to melt the snow at the bottom of a ravine and if so --

He clenched his jaw so hard the bones creaked and jerked his pistol from its holster at his side. A spark of light winked at him from the rooftop of the house and he raised his shield. The familiar crack of a rifle rang out and, a moment later, a bullet slammed into the shield, followed quickly by several more.

"What do you know," Bucky said, "either's it's a really paranoid bridge club or we've got a Hydra gathering." Still casual, he moved to the foot of the driveway that led up to the main house. It was bordered on both sides by a decorative, knee high brick wall and regularly spaced trees. Bucky knelt at the base of the wall and slung his rifle off his shoulder. Bullets pinged off the brick, sending dust and bits of shrapnel into his face but he ignored it.

Bracing the rifle on the wall he crouched lower and peered through the scope, sighting on the figure on the roof. He held still, waiting for the figure to pop up again, and then squeezed the trigger, once.

The shooting stopped.

Bucky got to his feet and tossed the rifle back over his shoulder. He retrieved his shield and continued up the driveway. He kept an eye out for more movement on the roof but the occupants inside were either overconfident assholes or too cheap to pay for more than one sniper.

Both very good signs it was Hydra, even without the telltale uniform he'd seen on the sniper through his scope.

Behind him he heard the other Commandos rushing across the lawn and diving to get into cover behind the trees and walkway.

"Damn it, Barnes!" Dugan shouted in a barely hushed whisper. "Get in cover. They had to have heard that inside."

"I'm counting on it," Bucky muttered. He made his way around the fountain and up the front steps, his boots loud on the wooden planks. He reached the double doors, strong and thick enough to stand up to any normal force, and gave a dark smile.

He wasn't any normal force.

One blow from a boot had them flying open. He stalked in, the coat Stephanie had always loved so much billowing about his feet. Stark had said there was a delay on getting him whatever costume the brass had decided Captain America should wear so he'd gone out in his standard gear. Phillips had said orders were for him to wait for Stark but Bucky had chosen to ignore them.  

His first duty wasn't to be their propaganda piece.

It was to dismantle Hydra, and dismantle it he would.

The front door opened into a large lobby with a grand staircase directly in front of him leading upstairs. From his left, Bucky spotted movement and turned in time to see a burly man in a Hydra uniform coming right at him. He was already too close to shoot so, without missing a beat, Bucky dropped his pistol and pulled a switchblade from a sheath on his waist.

The man swung at him with a weighted baton and Bucky ducked, coming up inside the man's guard and driving his blade through the bottom of the man's jaw and straight up. The guy dropped like a rock and Bucky stepped over him, heading toward the room he'd come out of.

Inside he found a group of officers, all high ranked as expected going by the pips and insignias on their uniforms, in various stages of getting up and arming themselves.

Bucky never gave them a chance. He sent the shield into the face of the nearest and then was spinning into a back kick that sent another flying into a wall so hard it cracked, plaster and dust raining down.

A third aimed a gun at him and Bucky threw the shield, watching with satisfaction as it struck the man's hand, the sound of bones cracking loud in the small room. The man screamed in pain clutching his broken fingers as the gun clattered to the ground and, for just the briefest of moments _he was on top of a train, wind and ice ripping at him as her eyes, filled with a mix of love, guilt and resignation, stared up at him._

_"I love you James Buchanan Barnes."_

_And then she was falling, blue light cutting through her like she was made of tissue instead of flesh and bone and then she was screaming...screaming and falling and --_

The barest movement of air snapped him back into the present and he turned just in time to throw up an arm and block the knife coming down at him. He used his other hand to grab the man's jacket front and hefted him up and threw him straight into two other men trying to sneak up on him.

 _Damn it Bucky,_ he could almost hear her say. _Pay attention already! Getting killed because you were daydreaming would just be embarrassing._

_Sorry, Darling._

A door in the back of the room opened and more Hydra troops poured in, their delay long enough to make Bucky wonder if they'd been on a coffee break and simply missed the attack on the officers they'd been ordered to protect.

He stepped over the crumpled form of a fallen officer and stomped on the edge of the overturned shield, snapping it up into his hand.

Then, with a renewed focus, he went to work.

***

When his own reinforcements, headed by the Commandos, arrived a few minutes later they found Bucky standing in the center of a mound of unconscious, or dead, Hydra officers and soldiers.

"Holy--" Dugan skidded to a stop, along with everyone else, staring in shock at the room. "How did you -- you've only been in here five minutes!"

"Move faster next time," Bucky said shortly. His eyes tracked over the forms on the floor until he found the one he wanted. The man had markings on his jacket signifying he held the highest rank in the room and Bucky had deliberately incapacitated him rather than kill him outright.

Grabbing him by the front of the shirt, Bucky dragged him up and slammed him against the wall. "Tell me where the last Hydra facility is," he ordered, his voice cold.

"Or what?" the man said, his eyes glassy from the blow Bucky had landed on him. "You'll kill me?" he laughed. "I have no fear of you, boy. No more than I did of that little blond bi--"

Bucky slammed him back into the wall again before he could finish that sentence, which simply caused the man to laugh again. "Touched a nerve did I?" He cocked his head, studying Bucky thoughtfully. "You're the one she was shacking up with, right? Her married lover. I can understand your distress. She must have been one hell of a lay."

Red clouded his vision and, as if from a distance, Bucky saw his hand close around the man's throat, choking him.

"Hey!" Dugan was suddenly hanging onto his arm, trying to drag him off. "Blast it, this is what he wants!" He nodded over his shoulder and said, "half of them already took cyanide capsules. This asshole is to chicken to do it so he's trying to get you to do it for him. Don't give him the satisfaction."

 _Be better than they are,_ her voice whispered in his mind. _Be the man I died for._

Bucky let go.

The man dropped in a heap at his feet, gagging for air and holding his throat.

"Perhaps you should get out of here," Dugan said to Bucky gently. "Get some air."

Bucky gave a short nod and turned, only to stop as the man on the floor grabbed his ankle.

"Just you wait," he said, his voice grating and raspy from where Bucky had choked him. "Schmidt has one hell of a surprise planned for you, boy. You'll never even see it coming."

Bucky frowned and opened his mouth to demand an explanation, only to stiffen in surprise as the man pulled a small gun from a pocket, and proceeded to shoot himself in the head with it.

Every SSR agent in the room immediately went into combat mode, only to stand down again as they realized what had happened and the all clear was called.

"Huh," Dugan muttered, "looks like the bastard found it in him after all."

"I suppose," Bucky agreed without emotion. With that he turned on one heel and left, putting his shield on the hook at the back of his jacket and shoving his hands in his pockets. The other SSR agents pulled back, giving him a wide berth as he passed through the midst of them in silence.

Idly his mind went over the words the man had said, before he shrugged and dismissed them. Ever since he'd revealed to the military brass that he was enhanced he'd figured word would, eventually, get to Schmidt and, in turn, the Red Skill would come gunning for him.

That was just fine for Bucky.

The sooner the man got there the better.

Bucky was, after all, gunning for the Red Skill just as hard.

And when they did finally meet, Schmidt wasn't walking away.

He would make sure of it. 


	30. Chapter 30

Stephanie was staring at the ceiling.

 

It occurred to her that she'd been staring at it for a very long time.

 

She felt...ill, in a way she hadn't since before the serum. Her head was pounding, her body ached and it felt like gravity had increased, pressing down on her and making her body feel far heavier than normal.

She was lying on a bed, a thin mattress and coarse blanket under her. Her legs were curled up and to the side and one arm was lying flat on the mattress next to her head, the other across her stomach.

She allowed her head to roll to the side to examine the room. It was small, nothing but four cinder block walls, a concrete floor and a solid metal door. There was a grate over a small slat set in the door at eye level. It could be opened from outside to let someone peer in but the grate would prevent her from manipulating it from inside.

A cell then.

Wherever she was, it wasn't friendly.

She turned her head back toward the ceiling.

For a little while longer she allowed herself to stay completely still, her body limp. She felt a deep lethargy and part of her desperately wanted to simply stop fighting her the desire to close her eyes and sleep.

Instead she forced herself to slide her arm off her stomach, moved her other arm down to her waist and very, very carefully worked herself into a seated position.

The ache in her body worsened, and she could feel a bone deep soreness and tightness every time she moved as if her body had been in one position for a very long time and had locked up that way. There was also a sharp, stinging pain in her left wrist and shoulder. She looked down toward her hand...and froze.

 

The hand currently pressed into the bed...was metal.

 

A sense of slowly growing panic settled in her gut as her eyes traveled along the fingers, to the wrist that still ached when it shouldn't because it was metal and not flesh, along the segmented plates of the arm and to the shoulder where bright metal vanished under the sleeve of the black t-shirt she was wearing. Hesitantly, and struggling not to give into the panic she felt at having a body part _missing,_ she pulled the sleeve back. Her entire shoulder was metal, the seam where it met flesh extending well down along the side of her left breast before moving back to complete the circle. The metal appeared fused somehow directly to her body, the skin swollen and just a bit hot to the touch. She could also feel a dull, burning pain, all of which together suggested the procedure had been recent and still in the process of healing.  

Carefully, she drew the tips of her fingers along the metal arm, catching on the edges of the segments. She mentally commanded the appendage to move and it did just as her other arm would. The action brought a burst of sharp, biting pain along the seam and she bit her lip, before settling the arm carefully in her lap. She worked the fingers and wrist and found all of it moved and behaved just as a real arm would though she had no idea how it was possible. She'd seen prosthetics before and they were usually plastic contraptions used more for aesthetic value than anything functional.

The memory of white hot agony tearing through her side ran through her mind and she hesitantly pulled up the hem of her shirt. Tender but unmarked skin met her gaze. She ran her fingers along her side, pressing gently but couldn't tell if what lay underneath was bone or more metal.

A strangled sound escaped her lips and she squeezed both hands into fists as an irrational desire to rip the thing off her shoulder and throw it ran through her. The very thought of her arm being torn off, and a new, alien one put in its place -- she shook her head frantically to try and dislodge the thought process and focus on the here and now.

She had no time to deal with it. She needed to know who'd gone to the effort of giving her a new arm, and why. An even better question was why had they bothered saving her at all? She wasn't stupid. She remembered what had happened. The odds of surviving it at all were astronomical, serum enhanced or not. Then for someone to find her and spend the time, effort and money to put her back together again...

She looked around again but there was nothing in the cell or on her arm to identify who it might have been. Given the fact someone would have had to have known she fell in the first place and the general location to look in, however, combined with the clear science and technology that had gone into the arm gave her a pretty solid idea on who her mysterious captors were. If she was right, they had every reason to simply let her die and no reason to save her.

No _good_ reason.

Carefully, she braced her hands on the mattress again, wincing as the weight caused the metal to move against her shoulder where it was attached, the pain spiking enough to raise beads of sweat on her forehead.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and set her feet on the floor. She was wearing a pair of dark cotton shorts that were wildly inappropriate, so short they didn't even reach midthigh. The thought of a stranger having removed her uniform to redress her nauseated her but there was little to be done for it. Her feet were bare and the cold of the concrete caused her to gasp in surprise and instinctively jerk them back up before settling them down again gingerly.

Scooting forward to the edge of the bed, she took another deep breath, and pushed herself to her feet.

Her legs began to buckle and she stumbled, staggering to the wall and bracing herself against it. The deep ache in her body, particularly her legs now that she was standing; along with the overall feeling of fatigue was bad enough to make her nauseous. She allowed her eyes to slide shut and rested her forehead against the cold stone of the wall, breathing in through her nose and out her mouth as she waited for the nausea to pass.

After a few moments, she forced herself upright and, on shaking legs, made her way to the door.

She pressed against it but could hear nothing beyond. She didn't dare try the doorknob in case someone was just outside, but doubted anyone had been stupid enough to leave it unlocked.  

Another look around the room showed a small vent in the middle of the ceiling overhead. An idea formed and she carefully made her way back to the bed, her footsteps becoming more sure as her strength returned a little.

Slowly, and deliberately, she started to move the bed, inch by inch, until it was underneath the vent. She lifted the mattress, and grinned at the sight of the coiled bedsprings. She used her metal arm to break one off, bending it into a u shape before putting the mattress back and getting up on the bed.  

She put her hands up, bracing them on the ceiling on either side of the vent. Then, moving one hand over, she slotted the bent spring into the first of the screws she'd spotted, and started using it as a makeshift screwdriver to get it lose.

Holding her back slightly arched, with her hands over her head, brought waves of dizziness which forced her to stop periodically, lower her head and shut her eyes as her body swayed. Once the feeling passed she'd return to her task.

When all four screws were out, she put her hand on the vent and lowered it. Disappointment flooded her as she could see immediately her plan wasn't going to work. Technically, the opening was large enough for her to fit through but the vent beyond didn't curve, or have anything she could use as a ledge or handhold to pull herself inside.

So, new plan then.

She could almost hear Bucky sigh in resignation and spared a moment to send him a mental apology. She had _tried_ to do it the easy and safe way; she really had. The thought of her husband brought a rush of melancholy and she wondered how he was doing. He must think she was dead and, given how she'd reacted to his possible death, she highly doubted he was taking it well. She needed to get back to him, fast, before he did something that got him hurt, or worse.

She moved the bed back into position and carried the vent cover over to the door, pressing her body against the wall next to it.

She pressed her back against the wall and took a second to let her head drop back against it. She was far, far from optimal health and was about to piss off an untold number of bad guys that she would then have fight with no weapons while dressed in little more than her skivvies.

A voice that sounded suspiciously like Bucky's floated through her head. _Every time I think you've reached the pinnacle of reckless, you go and find a new one._

Stephanie grinned. That was exactly what he would say.

"You know me, my Brooklyn boy," she murmured, readying herself, "always was an overachiever."

She threw the vent.

She used her left arm without thinking and sucked in a sharp breath as a knife blade of pain raced through her, the raw flesh at her shoulder protesting. She'd misjudged the weight of the arm, and how it would move compared to her flesh and blood one, and the vent didn't go quite where she aimed it or at the speed she'd intended. Still, it hit the wall with a loud clatter, hard enough to cause a small crack in the cinderblock. Powder puffed out and bits of shrapnel hit the ground with a light patter.

Outside the door, Stephanie heard shouting and rushing boots.

A key turned in the lock and, a second later, the door was shoved open. A hand appeared, clutching a gun. The man moved right past her, his eyes focused on the open vent overhead. He stopped under it, aiming the gun up and straining to see in.

Stephanie took him completely by surprise, disarming him in one move. She hefted the gun in her right arm, aimed and pulled the trigger without a second thought. The man collapsed with a hole in his head and Stephanie ruthlessly shut down the part of her mind that wanted to freak out over the fact she'd just killed someone.

Her eyes took in the telltale uniform and patch on the shoulder.

Hydra. As she'd suspected.

More voices and she forced her eyes away from the man she'd just killed and left the room. Here was hoping Hydra hadn't gone to the trouble of saving her just to shoot her during an escape attempt. She took down two more armed Hydra attackers as they rounded a corner at the end of the long hall she'd come out into, their bodies hitting the floor with matching holes in the center of their foreheads.

Stephanie clenched her jaw, and forced her mind to stay blank and focused, her hand barely shaking on the gun. Time for them to be the ones coming into the fight with a weakness, trying not to kill her while she was more than willing to kill them.

She wasn't making the same mistake twice. Bucky had almost died because she'd been unwilling to kill someone actively trying to kill them both.

Never again.

She took the ammunition off the men and started down the hall, keeping to the wall, gun at the ready.

She'd been tasked with wiping Hydra off the map, and so she would.

Starting right here and now.

***

Stephanie could say with fair certainty she'd managed to find the mysterious, not on the map, seventh Hydra facility. The SSR would be thrilled if she made it back.

Unfortunately, she was pretty sure she wouldn't be making it out of the lab she'd taken refuge in.

 _I'm sorry_ , she thought, wishing Bucky could somehow hear her. _I tried_.

Currently, she was crouched behind a small table. The floor past it was littered with the corpses of the idiots who'd tried to flush her out while, beside her, sat a pile of weapons and ammunition she'd gathered off the dead along the way.

At the least, she could rest in the knowledge she hadn't gone down easy. Hydra was going to remember this day for a very long time.

It had been quiet for too long. She leaned forward, resting one knee on the ground, and glanced around the corner of the table.

The door leading into the hall appeared empty but she could hear shuffling and movement. They were waiting for something and, whatever it was, wasn't going to be good for her.

She'd only made it ten or so corridors away from her cell and had no idea if she'd even gone in the right direction. For all she knew she'd been going deeper into the facility, not closer to an exit. It had been easy to get through at first, shooting or fighting through the forces that came after her. Even when not at peak form she was still a super soldier and stronger than an average fighter.

Maybe, _maybe_ , if she'd been in top form she might have made it. As it was her shoulder was on fire, to the point it had rendered her new left arm almost useless. Her legs felt like jelly and she was breathing so hard it was leaving her lightheaded. The further she'd gone, and the more the alarm had spread, the greater the number of Hydra soldiers coming at her had been until they'd finally started to overwhelm her. It was then she'd taken refuge in the lab and it was there she'd realized it was over, had been the second she'd set foot inside the room.

Now the only thing left to her was to kill as many of them as she could before they killed her.

She was pretty sure she'd pissed them off enough to cause them to rethink whatever they'd kept her alive for.

Someone approached the door and she tensed, holding her gun at the ready. She'd had two guns at one point but, with her left hand and arm barely functioning, she was now limited to just the one.

Something clunked to the ground inside the room and rolled.

Stephanie felt her heart sink. There was only one thing that could--

An explosion went off and suddenly the room was filling with smoke. Stephanie held her breath, grimacing as the stuff hit her eyes, causing them to immediately begin stinging and burning.

Mentally swearing, she stood --- just in time to see a fist flying at her face.

There was no time to react. The punch connected with her jaw and pain exploded through her. The force was hard enough to snap her backward and knock her right off her feet. Instinctively, her mouth opened, and caustic smoke filled her lungs. She gagged and then exploded into a fit of uncontrollable coughing. She curled around herself, choking and struggling to breathe.

"I believe, Lady," a familiar voice said, "I owed you that one."

An arm grabbed her shoulder and shoved her onto her back. She lashed out, only to have her wrists caught and pinned. She looked up, and found herself staring into the face of Johann Schmidt, partially hidden behind a gas mask but still unmistakable.

Stephanie sneered and tried to spit at him, only to have the smoke send her back into a fit of coughing. Schmidt wouldn't let her change position to breathe better and she fought against blackness as it felt like she was slowly suffocating.

A second man knelt next to her, also wearing a mask, holding a syringe filled with a clear liquid.

"I didn't have time to formulate it correctly for someone like her," he said to Schmidt. "I doubt it will knock her out."

"That's fine," Schmidt said. "I think the lady would enjoy knowing what we have planned for her."

The second man pushed her head to the side, exposing her neck.

"No," Stephanie managed to get out, her voice barely a croak. She struggled, but Schmidt was as strong as she was on her best day and she was far, far from her best. She tried to get her legs up to kick him but he was crouched beside her, holding her down, and she couldn't get a good angle.

The needle bit into the juncture between her neck and shoulder and she felt the hot rush of whatever was inside it being injected. They barely needed it, she was already well past the point of exhaustion and could barely breathe with the damn smoke in her lungs.

Schmidt released her arms and she tried to lash out at him again but her body barely listened to her, her movements sluggish and weak.

"Now, now, Lady Liberty," Schmidt said, mocking her with her title. He slid an arm under her back, the other under her legs and stood, lifting her as if she weighed nothing at all. "None of that. You must learn your limits."

He held her loosely, allowing her body to drape over his arms. It left her head at an uncomfortable angle but she couldn't muster the strength to lift it.

"It is good to see you are awake," Schmidt said casually as he strode from the room. He seemed altogether far too happy for someone who'd lost a good chunk of his men to a half-naked woman who'd just woken up from falling off a mountain and getting her arm literally blown off. "I was beginning to think you would not be of use after all."

He was carrying her down the hall. Stephanie could see the walls as they passed, doors set into them. They passed the areas she'd been in, leaving the carnage and smoke behind them. The man who'd injected her pulled his gas mask off and then reached over to remove Schmidt's for him.

As he did, Stephanie heard the man say, "We're going to the procedure room now? She's still weak. She won't be as effective."

"She won't be needed long," Schmidt replied casually.

The second man moved ahead of them and Stephanie heard a door being pushed open. She tensed and tried, once again, to struggle but her body felt like it was under water.

To her surprise, Schmidt adjusted his grip and then her feet were being placed against the cold floor, where they promptly buckled. Schmidt caught her, wrapping both arms around her from behind and gripping her wrists in front of her, bracing her with his body behind her.

Stephanie tried to snap her head back to hit him but he evaded her easily and chuckled.

He moved her wrists to one hand, which was just embarrassing, and grabbed her chin, forcibly directing her head forward.

The room they'd dragged her into was large and filled with blinking, quietly beeping machinery. Dominating the center was a huge contraption she didn't recognize, except for a large chair in the middle of it.

It was vaguely reminiscent of the one in the room when she'd first been given the serum. She didn't know what this one was, for its purpose, but knew she wanted no part of it. She set her feet, pushing back against Schmidt. He forced her forward with ease, half dragging, half carrying her up the short set of stairs that led to the platform the chair sat on.

Schmidt turned her around, so they were face to face, and gripped her by the upper arms, his fingers digging in painfully. Surprisingly, she felt the faintest sensation in her left arm but didn't understand how it was possible.

"You should rejoice, Lady Liberty," Schmidt told her, forcing her down into the chair. "You are about to be a part of history."

"I already was," Stephanie said, proud of how steady she managed to keep her voice.

The second man did something to a bank of machines nearby. Pneumatics hissed and suddenly thick metal clamps were coming down over her wrists and upper arms, locking her to the chair.

Stephanie felt her breathing pick up and a cold chill run through her. "What are you doing?"

"You may be interested to know," Schmidt said, ignoring her, "that your men have carried on in your absence. One has even picked up your shield." He raised an eyebrow at her. "Your young lover I believe it was, Barnes, yes?"

Stephanie kept her mouth shut, even as her heart stuttered at the realization that Schmidt knew Bucky's name.

Schmidt smiled and leaned on one of the machines nearby as if the two of them were friends having a chat. "I was quite surprised to find out he was enhanced as well but, after looking closer, I realize he was the one with you on the bridge all those months ago. Clearly, Dr. Zola needs to keep a better accounting of his subjects in the future, I think."

"You'll never touch him," Stephanie said, her voice cold and very nearly a snarl. "He'll kill you before you ever get close."

Schmidt laughed and leaned forward, clapping his hands together as if she'd shared a funny joke. "Ah, but you miss the point, my dear Lady Liberty. Why should we need Barnes anymore when we have you?"

Stephanie blinked in surprise. He was right. They had no reason to want Bucky if they had her. She thought back to the dim memories she had of them fixing her and wondered just how many bags of blood, and samples of the serum they'd taken from her. If they could reverse engineer it...they wouldn't have to bother with the beta version in Schmidt's blood. They'd have the pure version from her.

Schmidt was studying her as if he could read her thought process. Once he was sure she understood the ramifications he stood up and walked to stand over her. "Of course," he said casually, "the fact we no longer want him does not mean we have no interest at all. The man has proven to be as much of a nuisance as you were." He tilted his head to study her. "It's almost as if he courts death. I wonder, if perhaps the two of you were far closer than rumored?"

"It doesn't matter what you think you've accomplished," Stephanie ground out. "You've already lost. James, my men, and the SSR will destroy you."

"On the contrary," Schmidt said, looking amused. "I think, instead, it will be you destroying them."

Stephanie froze. "What?" her voice sounded suddenly small to her own ears and she cursed at having let Schmidt know he'd gotten to her in any way.

The man at the machine stepped away from it to move toward Schmidt, studying her with a frown as he did. "We can download the fighting patterns easily enough but the strength of the overall procedure lies in repeated use, and keeping the subject away from possible triggers," he explained. "Doing just one pass, and sending her somewhere familiar...it may not hold."

"I'm sure it will hold long enough for her to suit my purposes," Schmidt said, unconcerned. "Tell me, Lady," he asked, addressing her again, "how many of them do you think you will kill before they kill you? Will you be as much as effective against them as you were against me?"

Stephanie's heart stuttered in her chest and she pulled against the clamps, drawing her legs up as she struggled to push herself free from the chair. "Never," she said, shaking her head desperately. "You can't force me to hurt them."

"Oh, I assure you I can," Schmidt said. He motioned with a finger toward the other man who walked to back to the bank of machinery.

"It seems a waste," he said, as he took up position. "She could be a valuable asset."

Schmidt fixed his eyes on her. "It will be a new world soon, Doctor, and, in that world, there will be room for but one superhuman. Do not overestimate her worth." His eyes stayed fixed on her, giving no doubt as to who he was speaking to. Stephanie sneered at him and continued to struggle. She pulled until she thought she would tear her own arms off, arched her back and kicked as if she could force herself out of the chair all together but to no avail.

The doctor shrugged, muttering under his breath, and started pushing buttons on the machine.

A whirring sound started and the chair suddenly tilted, putting her at a reclined angle, eliciting a startled gasp from her. Fear uncoiled at the base of her spine and began working through her veins, no matter how she tried to resist it. The last thing she wanted was Schmidt, of all people, to see her afraid. Her chest heaved and her hands clenched and unclenched on the armrests, her legs still futilely moving as she struggled to somehow push herself out of the chair.

"Your value lies in your ability to take your friend's eyes off my operation for a little while," Schmidt said, stepping to the side to bring himself into her line of vision if she tilted her head. "You were quite the distraction for me for a few months. I find it only fair to return the favor. Surely something Lady Liberty, champion for justice, would agree with, yes?"

Stephanie told him exactly what she thought about him, using language that Bucky probably didn't realize she even knew.

Schmidt laughed. "Very good, Lady. Keep that spirit. You will need it."

There was another whirring sound and a curved plate loaded with lights and panels came down and pressed against the side of her face. Another, slightly smaller one, came down to press against her temple on the other side of her face.  

Stephanie's fingers curled over the edges of the armrests and she clenched her teeth, fighting to hold back a whimper of fear.

Bucky, she thought desperately. Bucky would stop her.

He would. He--

The machine activated.

And then there was only pain.

 

 


	31. Chapter 31

Bucky studied his reflection with dispassion.  

Stark's lab, usually full of people and noise, was empty but for the two of them.

Next to him, Stark fidgeted nervously, trying to read the completely blank expression on the face of his friend.

"I knew you wouldn't want the one they made Tony wear in the show," he said, anxiously, his hands making a vague gesture at the costume, "and I know how you wanted to, you know, keep her in people's minds so I thought -- you know, you might--"

"It's fine," Bucky said, his voice flat. He raised a hand lightly to run it over the star set dead in the middle of his chest, the stripes spreading out from it toward his shoulders. "I thought you said you'd run out of this stuff."

"Managed to get some more," Stark said vaguely. He offered no further explanation and Bucky didn't ask. "That's why it took so long to get it done. Just as strong as--" His voice faded. "Well, you know."

Bucky didn't respond. He would have preferred to continue wearing his standard gear but the brass wanted Captain America, not James Barnes. The same way they'd wanted Lady Liberty and not Stephanie Barnes, until they hadn't even wanted her.

He would have told them where they could shove their Captain America costume if they hadn't been smart enough to have Stark deal with it. They'd had Phillips tell him about the damn promotion they'd decided to force on him. Apparently, Sergeant America didn't have the same ring to it as Captain.

Tony hadn't even been in the military, let alone an officer, but ever since Bucky had revealed he was enhanced the brass had been bending over backwards to play up to him. Even Brandt, who seemed to have an odd conviction that Bucky was weak-willed and had been under his wife's thumb and who further appeared to believe that, now that his wife was gone, Bucky would be open to someone new controlling him.  

The moron had wanted Bucky returned to Washington to take part in a ceremony officially promoting him to Captain and showing him off as Captain America. When Phillips had told him, Bucky had casually replied that, if he went, he would most likely end up shooting Brandt in the face.  

The ceremony had gone on as scheduled with the excuse that Captain America was far too busy fighting Hydra to attend.

Bucky imagined he would have to go eventually, if only to deal with the fact that Brandt was still trying to float the theory that he'd been Captain America all along, working undercover after faking his death.

He hadn't openly claimed Stephanie had simply been a front but the implication was there and that was unacceptable. Bucky would have dealt with it already if it were not for the fact that Hydra still existed, which was even more unacceptable.

"The star still feels like a bullseye," Bucky said, his eyes never leaving his own reflection. She'd always looked larger than life in her uniform, a hero standing against the crashing waves of evil. He looked like a guy in desperate need of sleep wearing a costume. A pale shadow of a former glory. "A sniper would probably send me a thank you note."

"It's supposed to be a bullseye," Stark said. "It's bulletproof, the rest of the costume isn't. You get shot," he reached out and tapped the star, dead center on Bucky's chest, "you want to get hit there. Being enhanced, it probably won't even bruise."

The image in the mirror wavered and then she was standing there, proudly exclaiming over her new uniform.

_"Look, Bucky, it has pants! What do you think? Do you like it?"_

His jaw tightened and one hand clenched into a fist as a rush of emotion tried to overtake him. Bucky fought it back with the ease of long practice and turned away from the mirror to grab his belt and holstered pistol from the nearby table.  

"How--" Stark started, behind him, "how are you doing?"

Bucky finished buckling the belt on and moved to strap the holster around his thigh. "We still haven't found the final facility."

It wasn't an answer, and yet it was.

He started toward the door, only to pause as Stark asked, "I heard you're going out again. Are you sure that's wise? You've been out more than you've been in since..."

"We haven't found the seventh base," Bucky repeated. He barely angled his head, barely looking back over his shoulder. "Thanks for the uniform, Stark."

He left before the man could say anything else.  

Stark didn't try to follow.

The rest of the Commandos were waiting in the corridor just outside. As he approached Dum Dum handed him his shield, which he slid on over his arm. Falsworth had his rifle and he slung that over a shoulder, adjusting the strap until it hung where he wanted.

"If any of you think we've been going out too much, speak up now," he said shortly, as Gabe handed him his gloves and Bucky pulled them on. "You're free to stay behind." They hadn't found the base but there were still more areas where Hydra had a presence and Bucky had been deadly serious when he had said it was his intention to wipe every last one of them.

Maybe then, she could finally stop screaming.

His men, Stephanie's men, stared at him with identical, unflinching gazes and Bucky nodded. "Then let's get moving. Every second we waste here is another second Hydra gets to live."

He strode past them and they fell in silently behind him.

They crossed the floor of the strategy room and people who once might have stopped to speak to them or wish them well now scrambled to get out of their way.

The elevator doors opened and he strode on. He stood dead center in the car, at full attention with his eyes fixed straight ahead as his men gathered in around him.

After his latest mission, and a few others, fellow agents in the SSR had given him a new nickname, the Hammer of Shield.

Bucky didn't care. There was only one nickname he'd ever wanted and it would never be spoken aloud again because the only one who'd used it had been taken from him.

And in return he would not rest until the ones responsible had been wiped from existence.

The doors to the car closed and the elevator rose, taking the Howling Commandos and the Hammer of Shield to their next mission, and the one after, and the one after, until they could finally reach their ultimate goal.

Death to Hydra.

 

***

 

"Longing."

She was standing at attention in a small, empty room. She understood it was a room the same way she understood she was a human female and the one standing in front of her, uttering nonsense words, was a human male.

Not a standard human male, however, as she did not believe it was natural for humans of either sex to have heads that resembled blood red skulls.

"Rusted."

She didn't know how she knew any of that, any more than how she knew the outside lay somewhere past the walls of the room. A bright blue sky and green grass and cities and people and a giant statue of a woman standing in a harbor. She knew all that even though she had no memory of having been anywhere other than this room.

"Seventeen."

She was dressed in black. Form fitting pants and a jacket with the left sleeve ripped off to make room for her arm, which was apparently metal. She couldn't remember how she had come to have a metal arm but didn't particularly care. If it were important she would know. The arm hurt, the skin around the shoulder burning, sharp needles of pain radiating through her upper torso. She dismissed it, along with the fatigue her body felt, and the ache and soreness in her muscles and joints as if they hadn't been used in a long time, or were in the process of healing from some injury. She couldn't remember being injured but it was irrelevant either way. She would complete her mission regardless, once she found out what it was. The knee-high boots she wore pinched her feet and legs as if they were brand new and had never been worn. She had a glove on the metal hand, probably to help her better grip one of the knives she could feel slotted into a holster on her hip.

She had a lot of weapons, fitted into a belt around her waist, in a holster on her hip, in various pockets and other places on her body. Without having to think about it she knew she could use every one of them to deadly effect. Her hair was pulled back in a tight braid, out of her way, an oddly familiar feeling but she couldn't say why.

Everything about her was outfitted for efficiency.

"Daybreak."

She wore goggles over her eyes, probably to protect them from being blinded by glare or grit or debris or anything else that could incapacitate her at the worst possible moment. She understood them.

"Furnace."

She did not understand the purpose of the mask. It fit around the entire lower portion of her face, running below her jaw, covering her cheeks and running up over her nose.

She didn't ask the man with the red skull.

It wasn't her place to question.

It was her place to obey, though she did not yet know who she was to obey.

Until she did she would stand as she was, and wait.

"Nine."

The man was continuing to say nonsense words.

She felt nothing.

No irritation, no curiosity over what her name was, if she even had one, or where she'd been before this room. Curiosity. She knew, intellectually, what the word meant but couldn't recall having ever felt it, or any other emotion.

There was no need for them.

Feelings were a weakness.

Memories useless.  

There was only the mission, once it was given.

"Benign."

She focused on the far wall, past the man with the red skull, and stopped thinking.

"Homecoming."

The man with the red skull was circling her. She made no attempt to follow him as he did.

"One."

Hydra.

She wasn't sure where the name came from.

It didn't matter.

"Freight Car."

Her eyes pulled off the wall and focused, for the first time, on the man with the red skull. She had no idea who he was but she would obey him nonetheless.

"Solider."

She nodded slowly and, for the first time ever as far as she was concerned, opened her mouth and spoke.

 

"Ready to comply."

 

 


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which we begin to slowly discover just what kind of bastard Schmidt truly is. On a sidenote, sometimes I randomly have a song in my head when I'm writing a chapter. It might pertain to a character or just the chapter. In this case I had "Mad World" by Gary Jules in my head as I was writing Bucky, particularly at the end of the chapter. So if you're interested you can play that song as Bucky's song, particularly for the end of this chapter (it's not the music that was actually playing IN the chapter. That song was the "Three Stooges" theme song).

_Bucky walked down the hall to his wife's room, a spring in his step that hadn't been there a mere twenty minutes earlier. They'd just gotten back from a long mission, nearly dead on their feet from exhaustion, battered, and covered with all the grime that came from long travel and longer battle._

_He'd been looking forward to taking a shower and collapsing into bed for twelve hours, right up until they'd stepped off the elevator and Stephanie had lightly traced her fingers along his hand, hooking her pinky around his for a second as she'd passed him while simultaneously giving him a look he hadn't realized his girl knew how to give._

_His fatigue had vanished, or at least faded substantially, and he'd returned to his room to shower and change before heading to hers._

_Now, arriving at her door, he raised his hand and knocked lightly. Almost immediately he heard her voice faintly inviting him in. He gripped the doorknob and pushed it open only to frown in confusion when, instead of seeing his wife, he heard the bathroom door closing. He pushed the room door closed behind him and clicked the lock, just as he heard her voice nervously ask, "Bucky? Is that you?" from behind the closed bathroom door._

_He chuckled. "You just thought to ask who it was?"_

_He heard her give a huff. "Well, I assumed it was you, but then I thought it could be someone wanting me to go give Phillips a mission report."_

_"If he expects mission reports this late," Bucky said with mock seriousness, "and after you just got back I might have to have a word with him."_

_She laughed and he shook his head, leaning back against her desk and crossing his arms. "Are you coming out," he asked with amusement, "or are you still worried I'm not me?"_

_She muttered something under her breath and then he saw the bathroom doorknob move. "Don't you dare laugh, James Barnes."_

_She pushed the door open and he came off the desk at the sight of her in her Lady Liberty costume. The one she used for photo shoots, not the field one._

_"Laughing is the last thing I was thinking of doing," he breathed out as he stepped toward her._

_She went bright red and ducked her head. As he reached her he noticed, for the first time, that she was holding a small plate with, of all things, a cupcake on it with a single lit candle in the center. She wrapped an arm around his waist and pushed up to kiss him, before lifting the cupcake._

_"Happy Birthday."_

_He raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Is it?"_

_It was easy to lose track of time when on missions, or even when back, the days so full an entire week could sometimes pass without his notice._

_"Technically it was two days ago," she said cheerfully, "but we were busy burning down a Hydra base so I thought it might be prudent to postpone the celebration a bit."_

_"Good choice." He took the cupcake off the plate and blew the candle out while she set the dish down on the corner of the desk. He tossed the blown-out candle onto the place and then tore the cupcake in half. He shoved one half in his mouth, earning a look of resigned exasperation from his wife, before offering her the other half._

_Her eyes went wide and she happily accepted it, inhaling it only a little slower than he'd done. "Oh, that's heavenly," she moaned, as she licked the frosting off her fingers. "I had Peggy help me, since I knew I wouldn't be here. I'll have to remember to thank her."_

_Bucky made a noncommittal sound of agreement as he pulled her close to kiss her again before gripping her by the waist and lifting her up to sit on the edge of the desk._

_He put his hands on her hips and kissed her and she responded, only to then put a hand on his chest and stop him. "One second, we're not done yet."_

_Bucky braced his hands on the desk on either side of her body and leaned in to lightly kiss her at the juncture between her neck and shoulder. It made moving awkward for her but she didn't tell him to stop but instead gripped his bicep with one hand to brace herself while she leaned over to rummage in a drawer with the other._

_She came up with a small package a moment later, clumsily wrapped in old newspaper and tied with twine. Her look suddenly turned shy as she offered it to him. "I hope you like it."_

_"When haven't I loved a birthday present you've gotten me?" he asked in return, lightly kissing her as he took the package and pulled out his pocketknife to slice through the twine. Peeling the paper back revealed a pair of dark leather gloves._

_Stephanie tugged them out of his hands to say, "see, they're lined inside so they're warm but they're still thin enough they shouldn't interfere with your shooting." She gave him a worried look. "At least I think so. I know your old ones aren't enough. Your hands are always--"_

_She cut off as he kissed her, hard. He felt her hand, still holding the gloves, loop around his neck while her other hand slid under his arm. Her fingers dug into his shoulder and he grabbed her hips to tug her closer._

_When he broke off a few minutes later, breathing heavily, she nudged his forehead and said, "remind me to buy you gloves again in the future."_

_He laughed. "Do you have any idea how much I love you?" he asked fervently, knowing full well the word was woefully inadequate to what he felt for her._

_She smiled and wrapped both arms loosely around his neck, and kissed him on the forehead. "What did you wish for?"_

_He raised an eyebrow. "What?"_

_"Your candle," she said. "What did you wish for?"_

_He pulled her off the desk, crouched to wrap his arms around her legs and then stood up, lifting her easily. She ran her hands through his hair and pressed her forehead to his with a laugh._

_"Nothing," he whispered. "I wished for nothing. I already have everything I could ever want."_

_Her expression softened and she kissed him lightly. "Bucky Barnes, my Brooklyn boy, you are a charmer."_

_She lowered her head to kiss him and he closed his eyes..._

 

And opened them alone.

 

Bucky lay still, eyes fixed on the water stained ceiling overhead. After a moment, he ran a hand through his hair and rolled out of the narrow bed, the rickety frame squeaking loudly in protest. The place billed itself as a bed and breakfast style hotel but the bed barely qualified, the mattress hard and thin enough he'd felt every spring, the blanket stained with he didn't want to know what.

The room itself was little better, cramped and poorly lit with a bed, small table passing for a desk and a chair he was sure would break if he sat in it.

He'd thrown his overcoat over the back of it, just before collapsing into the bed fully clothed, and he reached for it to shrug on tiredly. He'd slept fitfully all night and the only difference he felt between now and having dropped down the night before was his body ached from the terrible bed.

He went into the small bathroom long enough to splash water over his face, ignoring the deep shadows under his eyes or the way his jacket was starting to hang on his frame. 

He headed back into the room and paused as his eyes fell on his gloves, resting on the bed next to his pillow. He stood silently for a few minutes, trying to pretend the mere sight of them didn't draw his attention to the pit in his soul he could easily fall into and never crawl out from if he acknowledged it too long.

He picked them up finally, the leather cold in his hands, and put them in a pocket of his coat. Then he grabbed his weapons and shield and left the room. The sun was barely up so he tried to walk quietly down the narrow corridor outside but it was impossible to completely mask the clunk of his boots on the worn floorboards.

Downstairs he could hear the faint sound of other early risers in the small cafe attached to the hotel. He bypassed it and headed to the front counter, tapping a hand absently on it as he waited for the young woman running it to notice him. She did and immediately put on a brilliant smile as she came over. "Good morning, Captain. How did you sleep last night?"

"Fine," Bucky lied. "Any messages?"

"Um, let met check." She turned around, finding the small cubby that corresponded to his room without having to ask his room number. She turned back a moment later, empty handed. "No, sorry, nothing came in."

"All right." No coded messages, which meant the night had been quiet despite Bucky making a big show of Captain America staying alone in a rundown motel. He was about to turn away when the woman suddenly blurted out.

"She's a lucky woman."

He paused in the act of turning and frowned at her. "Excuse me?"

She nodded at his hand. "Your wife. She's a lucky woman."

_"I love you James Buchanan Barnes."_

Bucky glanced at his hand where his ring, that he'd put on under a promise to love, cherish and _protect_ , winked at him in silent judgement while Stephanie's agonized scream echoed in his head. "No," he said quietly. "She really wasn't."

He headed into the cafe. He stopped at the small counter and got a cup of coffee and then chose a table near the window, sitting in the chair that let him sit against the wall and stay back far enough that he wasn't directly in front of the window but could see out. There were only a handful of other patrons in the room leaving it quiet but for the low murmur of voices and the occasional clink of silverware.

This far back from the front lines it was like a different world. The street was quiet for the most part, a few people strolling about without having to worry about debris or broken storefronts, their faces turned only to check for the chance of rain from the overcast sky and not the fear of bombs falling.

Things were rationed here as they were everywhere but it was more peace than he'd had in a long time, long enough to have forgotten what it felt like.

He couldn't stand it.

The last thing he wanted was nothing to do.

Nothing to fight.

Nothing to help him stop thinking.

He propped his foot on his knee and drummed his fingers on the tabletop, eyes fixed outside. In the silence the darkness in his soul yawned wide, threatening to pull him in if he didn't find something to distract him from it, and soon.

A plate of food was set down on the table in front of him and Carter slid into the seat on the other side with her own plate. "You need to eat, coffee is not breakfast."

"Yes, mother," Bucky said, making no attempt to touch the plate. "About time you showed up."

She gave him an annoyed look. "We can't all burst in guns blazing, James. Some things take time, and tact."

Bucky grimaced in disgust. Tact was the last thing he wanted to use around a Hydra solider, even one who claimed he wanted to defect.

Lowering his voice, he said, "so what are the odds this whole thing isn't a trap?"

Carter cast a look around the room but the closest guests were all the way on the other side. With a dry look at him she said, "you mean what are the odds that the guy who wants to defect just so happens to work at the facility we've been trying to find and that his only demand for his surrender is that Captain America comes to personally escort him to safety?"

Bucky nodded, eyes still outside. That's what he'd thought. Carter had been working for months to find the damn facility with no luck. The hope originally had been that Zola could be convinced to turn on Schmidt and reveal the location but, so far, that hope appeared to have been in vain. Zola was far more afraid of what Schmidt would do to him if he turned traitor than he was of spending the rest of his life in prison. Bucky had no doubt he could convince the sniveling coward of what he should truly be afraid of, for Stephanie's sake and his own, but his request had been denied.

It had been a little over two weeks earlier that word had come in of a high-ranking Hydra officer wanting to defect. The whole thing screamed too good to be true which is why they'd attempted to trigger any potential trap by having Bucky stay alone in the motel the night before. Nothing had happened, which could mean the whole thing was legit, or it could mean the enemy had figured out the entire place had been surrounded by one of Carter's teams and the Howling Commandos.

"I don't know," Carter said, gazing out the window as well, her chin propped on her hand. "Maybe we'll get lucky for once. Maybe he really does want to defect and is just scared." She gave him an amused look. "If I were getting ready to piss off a guy like Schmidt I'd certainly want someone like Captain America on my side."

Her smile faded when Bucky didn't respond and she sighed. "You're probably right, though. When are we ever that lucky?" She speared a piece of fruit with her fork and said, "well, at the very least, if it is a trap they put some damn good bait in it."

"That they did," Bucky agreed. He turned his gaze to her for the first time, a near feral look in his eyes. The Hydra officer in question _was_ high ranking which meant he very likely did know the location of the secret base. If that was true, Bucky fully intended to find out where it was. It would take nearly a week to make it back to Phillips where he'd have to turn the man over. That was more than enough time to find out what he needed to know.

One way or another

_***_

An hour later he and Carter walked up the steps of one of the most expensive hotels in the city because even supposed Hydra defectors still wanted to live in style apparently.

Carter led the way with Bucky falling in behind her while, behind him, their back up spread out quietly in the parking lot and surrounding businesses. If Bucky or Carter didn't come out in fifteen minutes their orders were to come in, guns blazing.

The front lobby was spacious with thick carpeting underneath and plants and artwork liberally set everywhere. The front desk was massive and paneled in expensive looking wood with a granite countertop. Bucky hung back while Carter went to find the room number they needed.

"Excuse me?" a voice asked timidly and he turned to see a young couple studying him nervously. The guy, in his mid-teens probably, thin with huge glasses asked, "are you the Winter Soldier?"

Bucky grimaced. "Among other names."

The woman, taller than her beau with thick black hair and matching huge glasses, looked about ready to pass out from excitement. "Oh, my gosh," she said, clapping her hands. "I knew it! I knew it! Oh, I wish I had my poster for you to sign!"

"I don't really do stuff like that," Bucky said. "Not my style."

"That's true," the boy said. "That was more Lady Liberty's style. She was the showgirl. This guy," he said, pointing at Bucky, "is the real deal. He's not just there for show like she was."

Bucky went rigid. He pushed up from the wall but, before he could light into the kid as he so richly deserved, Carter was back, grabbing his arm and tugging him forward. As she did a man passed close by her and Bucky saw her slip a piece of paper in his coat pocket. It would contain the room number that he would take out to their backup.

"Come on, I found where we need to go."

The boy looked at Carter, and then Bucky, and opened his mouth as if he was about to say something else equally stupid. Before he could the girl, who was giving Bucky a nervous look, suddenly grabbed his arm and said, "they're busy, John. Come on, let's leave them alone."

The boy protested but the girl was stronger and easily dragged him away, apologizing for the bother over her shoulder as she left.

"What was that about?" Carter asked as she hauled him toward a staircase leading to the upper floors.

"Just a reminder that I need to kill Brandt at some point," Bucky growled. The second he was done with Hydra he was going after Brandt. He would personally make sure his girl got the recognition she deserved, even if he had to personally set everyone straight himself.

He wasn't any less calm when they arrived at the room Carter had been given. It was on the fourth floor, a white door in a sea of other white doors in a narrow hallway carpeted in red and gold.

Carter knocked and stood to one side while Bucky took up a stance on the other side. When no answer came, Carter frowned at him and asked, "can you hear anything?"

Bucky shrugged. "Sounds like there's a radio on in there somewhere but I can't tell if anyone's in or not."

"Okay." Carter drew her gun and Bucky did the same. When she nodded at him, he stepped back and, in one easy move, kicked the door open.

"Think that'll draw attention?"

"Maybe just a little," Carter said. "We'll have to make this quick."

She moved into the room and Bucky went in behind her, covering her. The main area was small, a simple bed, writing desk and chair. A bathroom was set off to one side with a shower and toilet in it but little else. Someone had taped thick blankets over the windows and turned the lights off, casting the room in near total darkness. Bucky flipped the switch near the door only to find it didn't work, neither did the lamp next to the bed or the bathroom light.

Bucky moved to stand in the center of the room and frowned as he realized he could still hear an odd, tinny music, like the opening soundtrack to a radio program but a glance at the radio showed it was turned off.

"Where is that coming from?" Carter asked, moving to stand beside him.

"I don't know." Bucky spotted the door to the small closet and nodded at it. Going by the way the room was built he didn't think it would be deep enough for a person to hide in but, perhaps he was wrong.

Carter nodded back to show she understood and stepped up to the door of the closet. As she did, Bucky took up position outside it, his gun up and at the ready.

Carter mouthed a countdown to him and, on the count of three, jerked the door open and spun out to end up beside Bucky with her own gun out and at the ready.

It took Bucky a few seconds to process what he was seeing. A small table was set up inside the closet with a projector on it, broadcasting a short movie on the back wall of the closet. As he watched, it started over again...and Bucky realized what it was.

Surveillance footage, from the train. Footage that he hadn't even known existed, let alone that Hydra somehow had it even though the train it was taken on was in the possession of the SSR.

In a near trance, Bucky stepped forward, eyes transfixed on the scene. It was on a loop, starting from the moment Stephanie had stumbled to her feet and gone to the torn-out section of the train to try and save him. The bastards had sped the tape up and set it to catchy music, making the scene play out like some sort of slapstick comedy instead of the tragedy it was.

As he watched, the armored attacker appeared, lumbering toward his girl. He saw Stephanie look over her shoulder to see him coming, saw the moment she made her decision.

He put a hand out, pressing it to the wall as his wife turned to face her killer, grabbed the muzzle of his weapon...and pulled.

His legs buckled and Bucky fell to his knees.

Over his head, the loop started again.

Behind him, Carter suddenly sucked in a sharp breath and he heard her whisper, "oh my God." A second later she was beside him, pulling on his arm. "James, come on. We need to leave." There was an urgency and near panic in her voice and the way she was standing over him instead of kneeling...it was as if she were trying to block him from seeing something.

With a frown, he allowed her to pull him to his feet, and then very deliberately nudged her out of his way.

"James," she said. "James, don't."

Too late.

Bucky felt his world slow to a stop, the music and Carter and every other sound and image fading away under the roar of blood in his head. Ice rushed through him as he reached a shaking hand out to lightly touch the object draped over a hangar at the far end of the closet.

His fingers encountered mesh, supple in some areas, stiff in others. He tugged and, with a quiet sound, the garment slipped off the hanger and into his hand.

The video and music shut off and he turned to see Carter turning back toward him from the projector. She opened her mouth and appeared to be speaking but it was as if she were underwater and very far away, the words she was saying muffled and impossible to understand.

Bucky walked past her, toward the bed, and carefully laid the garment out before stepping back...and feeling his heart stop in his chest.

He was looking a costume almost identical to the one he currently wore. The only differences in the size, the missing left arm and shredded left side, and the fact it was so heavily drenched in blood in was nearly black in areas.

His eyes moved to the star in the center of the uniform, dyed red now instead of silver. A piece of paper was taped to the collar above it and he woodenly picked it up and opened it.

The first thing he spotted was an address.

Then his eyes dropped to the note below, and what little had been left of his world came crashing down about his ears.

 

_Would you like to know how many pieces she was in when we found her, Captain?_

 


	33. Chapter 33

Bucky couldn't breathe.

Spots danced in his vision as he struggled to draw in ari. His hands opened and closed at his sides helplessly and he was shaking so hard it was a wonder his bones didn't break. He felt cold and hot all at once and his eyes were wide and fixed, unable to pull away from the uniform on the bed.

"James?" Carter was speaking to him slowly and gently, her hands raised in front of her but not touching him as if she feared he would break at the slightest pressure.

 

She wasn't wrong.

 

"That's why we couldn't find her," he managed to gasp out. He was finally, _finally_ able to look away from the blood-soaked uniform to stare at Peggy in horror. She still seemed far away, her voice muffled and words faint.

His eyes went back to the bed, as if pulled there by some unseen force.  

"They found her," he whispered. Even as he thought it he cursed himself for a damn fool. Of _course_ they'd found her. Her blood carried the pure version of Erskine's serum. She was a valuable target, alive or dead.

The chain around his neck suddenly felt like it weighed a ton, the ring resting against his collarbone carved from burning ice.

It had been bad enough when he couldn't find his girl, when all he could think about was her being left out there like she was nothing, when he'd failed her so utterly and completely that he couldn't even give her the basic decency of a burial....

He'd barely been able to bear it then...but this? To know those _bastards_ had found her, touched her, most likely _cut_ her...bile surged and he choked, spinning away from the bed to stagger to the bathroom. He barely made it in time, collapsing in front of the toilet, pain sparking through his knees as they impacted the hard tile. He gripped the edges of the bowl and retched, losing what little he'd been able to eat just that morning and probably most of what he'd eaten the last several days.

When it was over, he simply stayed where he was, panting, until the smell and acrid taste in his mouth drove him to flush and drag himself to his feet. He turned on the sink and rinsed his mouth and then gripped the edges of the narrow counter. He sagged forward until his forehead was touching the cold glass of the mirror and shut his eyes.

He'd barely been able to bear it before, but this?

This he couldn't bear at all.

_"I love you James Buchanan Barnes."_

_"My Brooklyn Boy."_

_"Bucky."_

_"Make the monster go away."_

 

His fingers tightened on the edges of the counter as her voice, younger than he'd heard in years, floated through his mind. A brief memory, hazy with age, wide blue eyes turned up to his from where she sat curled on her bed, dressed in an oversized nightgown she'd borrowed from her mother so she could feel grown up, clutching a ratty old teddy bear she'd appropriated from him, and trusting him to save her from the monster she was convinced had taken up residence in her closet. She'd trusted him over her own parents, demanding they call him to come save her from the monster.

He'd saved her from that one, and all the ones that had come after.

All save the last one.

An almost unnatural sense of calm settled over him and he opened his eyes. The pounding in his head eased and, rather than far away and dim, he was suddenly hyperaware of everything, every color in bright relief, every detail cut with such clarity it was almost painful to look at.

James Buchanan Barnes pushed off the sink and strode into the other room. His gun lay on the ground where he'd dropped it at some point and he knelt on one knee to scoop it up and holster it. His shield was already hooked onto his back where he'd put it before they'd set out, after he'd returned his coat to his room.

"James." Carter was standing at the window, looking out. "We're past the deadline. The others should have been here by now."

"You should go check on them," he said shortly. He snatched the paper with the address off the bed and without looking at anything else, left the room.

Carter caught up with him in the hall. "You can't just go there. Especially not when our backup may have been compromised."

He ignored her, reaching the stairs and taking them at a quick clip. She kept pace with him, telling him all the things he already knew. They were playing mind games with him, they wanted him emotionally compromised, they meant to kill him.

He knew all that.

He didn't care.

He stepped off the last step and turned to face her, the movement so sudden she drew up short on the final step with a startled gasp.

"They have my wife," he said, his words clipped.

"They don't," Carter insisted. "Not really. They can't hurt her anymore, Bucky. Nothing can."

"They have my wife." Bucky repeated, as if it was all the answer needed, and it was.

They had his girl, dead or alive, it didn't matter because they had her...and he couldn't bear it.

He started moving again and she kept up with him, muttering under her breath but no longer trying to stop him. They exited the front door and he heard Carter give a quiet exclamation of relief at the sight of Dum Dum coming up the front steps, a hard look on his face. "You two okay?" he demanded.

"Well, enough." Carter grabbed Bucky's arm and he stopped only because he knew she'd hold on if he tried to break away and it'd end up hurting her. "What happened?"

"No idea," Dum Dum said. He held up a bulky handie-talkie. "Everyone suddenly started dropping off. Gave them the order to retreat and regroup and came myself to check on you two." He gave Bucky a concerned look. "You okay, Cap?"

Bucky flinched at the nickname. They'd given it to Stephanie as a sign of respect, and him as well. He'd accepted it because hearing it tricked him into thinking she was still there, for a second. "I'm fine. Go and meet the others, see if you can find out what happened to the ones you lost contact with and then go secure the hotel room we were just in."

"James," Carter said, a warning in her voice. "We're going to need back up. We can't just charge in blind."

" _We_ aren't doing anything," Bucky said, his voice hard. He jerked his head at Dum Dum. "Stay with him."

He turned his back on them both, marching down the stairs and toward the street. He reached into his pocket for the paper with the address only to find it gone. No matter, he was sure he remembered it enough to get there.

Footsteps sounded behind him and then Carter was back, looking annoyed.

"I thought I told you to stay behind," Bucky growled.

"People tell me things all the time," she replied. "I've found it best to only listen when it suits me."

Bucky shook his head. "I can see why she liked you."

"I liked her too," Carter said softly. "You're not the only one who wants to see Hydra pay, or the only one who'd like a personal hand in seeing it done."

Bucky was silent a second, considering, and then inclined his head slightly. "Fair enough."

He knew he should say more, probably even apologize for trying to shut her out but he barely had it in him to keep putting one foot ahead of the other. Anything approximating conversation was past him.

Instead he slowed down enough that she could keep up with him without having to run. It wasn't an apology, exactly, but the smile she sent at him suggested she understood the sentiment behind the action just the same.

***

The address led them to the industrial section of the city, the businesses and hotels giving way to factories and warehouses. The one they wanted was on the very outskirts, a smaller warehouse that had clearly been abandoned and long ago given into the blight. The windows were all busted out, the facade crumbling and portions of the upper floors appeared to be sagging.

The lot the building sat in had long ago been reduced to dirt and weeds with debris and trash scattered throughout.

"You think we should at least find some cover before we get shot from a window?" Carter asked dryly as they approached.

"They didn't bait me out here to shoot me from a window," Bucky replied. They had crossed the street and he stepped up onto the sidewalk, crossing quickly into the yard. He reached over his shoulder and pulled his shield off, sliding it onto his arm. His eyes flickered toward the building and narrowed. "You see the windows?"

"They've been blacked out from the inside," Carter said. "This is going to be fun."

They got to the front door and he drew his pistol, holding it down by his leg as he lifted his foot and kicked the door open in one move. Immediately he had the shield up, keeping Carter behind him as he moved inside.

The door swung shut behind them, leaving them in a cavernous room sluggishly lit by dim bulbs strung up overhead.

Bucky stood still, eyes taking in the space. The room they had come into ran probably half the width and breadth of the entire building. Dirt and debris littered the floor while hulking, silent machines provided cover for any number of enemy combatants. The windows, as they'd seen from outside, had been covered over by large black sheets, blocking all natural light from entering and creating deep shadows throughout. At the very back he caught sight of stairs leading up to the upper floors.

"Well?" Bucky said, raising his voice so it echoed through the room. "You wanted me here." His voice lowered to something devoid of warmth and utterly deadly. "Now where the hell is she?"

A loud voice thundered through the room, echoing so badly it was impossible to tell where it was coming from. "Ask and you shall receive, Captain."

Bucky tensed. He heard a loud click and then a spotlight turned on at the back of the room. It highlighted a large screen that had been lost in shadow on the back wall and, for a second, he feared he was about to be subjected to seeing that damn film again.

Then the screen lifted and he realized it was a thousand times worse.

Behind the screen a platform had been set up, a low set of stairs leading up to it. On it stood a waist high podium...and laid out on that was a body.

It was covered with a thin white sheet but the outline was unmistakable, as was the fact that the form was undeniably female.

Bucky physically staggered as if he'd been struck, breath knocked out of him and his legs weak. Beside him, Carter sucked in a harsh breath and her face went pale.  

"Cut the theatrics," Carter hissed beside him as Bucky struggled to get back under control. "and give her back."

"And why should I do that?" the voice asked and now Bucky heard the clatter of metal steps as the owner of the voice walked slowly down the stairs from the upper floor. He was middle-aged with slicked back dark hair and the uniform of an officer. Not as high ranked as they'd been promised but high enough.

"Wolfgang Malik," Carter muttered next to him. "He'd be almost as good a catch as Zola was."

Bucky focused on him, and only him, because his eyes were already burning, his breathing ragged and there was no way he could look at that silent form again without everything he'd fought so hard to hold together breaking down completely.

"It isn't as if you wanted her," Malik continued as he stepped onto the platform. He walked casually to the front of the podium and leaned back against it, bracing his hands on it, and Bucky saw red.

"Get _away_ from her," he snarled and Malik smiled.

"James," Carter whispered next to him. "You know what this is, don't let the bastards win."

On the stage, Malik turned and idly ran a hand along the still arm under the sheet. "You're the one who left her to rot, Captain." He raised an eyebrow. "But, then, perhaps that was what you wanted." His eyes ran over Bucky's costume and shield, mocking. "You certainly took her place fast enough didn't you?"

Bucky's blood boiled. He wanted to kill the bastard so badly it hurt. Stephanie couldn't be hurt anymore, he reminded himself. She couldn't be hurt. It became a chant in his mind and the slimmest thread by which he held himself back from rushing the stage.

"What's the point of this?" Carter demanded, stepping forward.

"Distraction, for the moment," Malik said cheerfully. "Did you happen to notice you've lost some of the men you came with?"

"That was you?" Carter asked.

Malik's eyes flickered to the side, and he smiled. "No," he said, calmly. "That was her."

Bucky's followed Malik's gaze and saw a figure walking from the opposite side of the warehouse. As she reached the steps, passing under the spotlight, he realized it was a woman dressed in black. She stepped up to stand beside Malik. The only thing he could tell about her was she had blonde hair, her face and eyes covered by a mask and goggles. The only other striking feature about her was what appeared to be a metal left arm.

"Is that blood?" Carter asked and Bucky's eyes narrowed, noting the thin red rivulets running down the metal.

"Relax, Agent Carter," Malik said casually. "I can assure you all your men are quite alive, though some may wish they weren't." He reached up and lightly put a hand under the mysterious woman's chin, raising her head up. She made no sound and, with the mask and goggles, it was impossible to tell what she was thinking, if anything. "What do you think, Captain? We call her the Fist of Hydra. Fitting, yes?" He turned his head from where he'd been inspecting the woman like she was a favored pistol and gave an evil grin toward Bucky. "Do you think she looks enough like your darling Liberty? The height, weight and hair are correct. As for the rest," he shrugged, "well, you can see how we handled that for yourself."

Bucky blinked in confusion. "What?"

Carter looked just as confused next to him. "What are you talking about?"

"You are not the only one who can create propaganda," came the response. He trailed a hand casually along the woman's arm, the same way he'd done to the body on the table. "What do you think, Captain?" he repeated. "Stephanie Rogers, the woman who joined the army to fight only to be rejected by her own people." He locked eyes with Bucky. "Who then became so disillusioned with her own people she was willingly recruited by Hydra, seduced the undercover Captain America in order to spy on him, and then tried to assassinate him on a train in the Alps, only to fail."

"That's absurd," Carter said, before Bucky could respond. "No one would believe she survived that fall."

"Not to mention we have the tape," Bucky growled, "and her." His eyes went past the man, to the still form on the table and his gut clenched inside him. If it was the last thing he ever did, he was bringing his girl home.

Malik laughed. He said something to the woman beside him and she pulled a bag off her shoulder that Bucky hadn't realized she was carrying. She upended it and Bucky watched as a cassette fell out, along with the bloody uniform from the hotel room.

"You are the only witness to her supposedly fall from the train," Malik said, "a falsehood you easily could have spread to keep the public from knowing their precious Lady Liberty was a traitor." He spread his arms out and shrugged. "Perhaps she did not fall. Perhaps she landed on the tracks, or was removed from the train another way. Who cares, really? Once the word spreads, and the Fist of Hydra begins to do her work, what do you think the public will believe?" As he spoke he lifted his foot and drove it down on the cassette, the plastic cracking and splintering beneath his boot. "Particularly when, as her first act, the lovely Stephanie Rogers takes her revenge against the man who cost her an arm?"

"It's bad enough you murdered her," Bucky snarled, "and did God knows what else to her, now you want to smear her name as well?"

"What can I say?" Malik asked smugly. "Herr Schmidt likes to hold grudges." He stepped back, toward the stairs. "You will die, Captain, knowing that not even your wife's memory will be left intact in your wake." He nodded at the woman. "Complete your mission."

Immediately the woman started toward them while Malik began to retreat up the stairs toward the upper floors.

Bucky swore. "I'll handle her. You got him?"

Carter nodded, pulling her gun and holding it at the ready. "Yep, be careful."

"Same," Bucky muttered. He moved to place himself between the approaching woman and Carter but it turned out not to be necessary. The blonde only had eyes for him, not even glancing Carter's direction as she ran past and started up the stairs after Malik.

He had no more time to spare as the blonde woman drew two guns from thigh holsters and fired at him. He managed to get the shield up and block the shots only to suddenly have her right in front of him. She fired straight at his shield with one weapon, forcing him to block, while trying to swing the second up and under to shoot him in the chest.

Bucky swore and shoved forward with the shield, knocking that gun back and off center. The move brought him just inside her guard and he wrapped his free arm around her flesh and bone arm, locking it in place so she was firing behind him. He twisted, allowing his arm to run up hers, cocking it at the last second and throwing an elbow at her face.

She dropped, catching his legs as she went down and knocking him flat on his back. He rolled, just in time to miss her foot coming down where his head had been. He leapt back to his feet and got the shield back up to block another barrage of bullets.

A click signified she'd run out of ammunition and he drew his own gun, only to swear as she pulled a blade from her belt and threw it at him. It nicked his hand, knocking the gun free to clatter to the ground. Three more blades came at him in quick succession, driving him back and forcing him into a defensive mode.

She threw herself forward into a roll and came up in a crouch, holding the gun she'd knocked from his hand and unleashing a new barrage of bullets at him.

"Holy hell," Bucky muttered as the bullets pinged off his shield. The telltale click resounded in the room and he threw the shield, aiming it for her head. She dropped the gun to grab the shield, only to find him coming right behind it. She blocked the blistering blow he aimed at her head, the impact of his fist on the shield reverberating in the room. She followed the move with a blow of her own, with her metal arm. He blocked it, grunting in pain as the force vibrated through his arm.

As if by unspoken agreement they broke off, pacing back several feet to circle one another warily.

"Why don't you take the mask off?" Bucky challenged. "Afraid to break the illusion?" She gave no response and he asked, "that why you can't speak either? Everyone would know who you are?" his voice dropped dangerously low and his eyes flickered toward the silent form on the podium. "Who you aren't?"

As he studied her, he noted for the first time she was breathing harder than he was, and her stance was shaky. He noticed movement on her arm and focused on that in time to see a new, slender rivulet of blood trickling down the metal.

"What's wrong?" he taunted. "My men give you more trouble than you thought they would?" He settled back into an offensive stance. "How do you think you're going to fight someone enhanced, when you could barely take them on?"

She responded by lunging at him, leaping off from the floor and swinging into a powerful leg kick aimed at his head. He ducked and came up between her swinging legs, grabbing one and using her own momentum to throw her. She spun through the air and hit the ground hard, rolling several feet before sliding to a stop on her stomach.

Somehow, she kept her grip on the shield and came up with it in hand. As she did, Bucky realized her second hand was hidden behind it and threw himself forward, into a roll, just as she lowered the shield to reveal the gun she'd somehow picked up and reloaded without him noticing.

Bullets slammed into the floor where he'd been moments before, just as he came up and grabbed the edge of the shield. She jerked it forward, throwing him off balance and sending a foot into his chest. It threw him backwards to land on his butt and he immediately dropped down flat to avoid the shield whipping by over his head, barely missing him.

Putting his hands against the floor he pushed back up to his feet, only to jerk to the side to avoid a knife coming at him. It caught the collar of his uniform as it sailed past and he felt a sharp line of pain as it sliced through the fabric, opening a slender cut just under his collarbone. She was coming and he spun and sent a back kick at her, managing to knock the knife she held out of her hand. It hit the ground and skittered away to land near a wall.

Vaguely he wondered just how many of the damn blades she had but the thought passed quickly as they settled into a short hand to hand fight, each of them doing their best to block the other's blows while getting in a few good ones of their own. Through it all she fought in total silence, with an almost mechanical efficiency. By this time blood was pouring freely down her arm, her chest was heaving as she fought for breath and her hair was plastered to her head with sweat. She was shaking badly and several times, as he drove her back, she staggered and her legs threatened to buckle beneath her.

Bucky was starting to tire himself, a surprise given his enhanced status but, then again, perhaps not. He'd been pushing himself like crazy of late and hadn't exactly been on a steady diet of food and sleep. He was far from top form, but he was certainly better than the so-called Fist of Hydra. Clearly the fight against his men had taken far more out of her than Malik had expected or he doubted the man would have set her on him.

She staggered, her guard opening slightly as she tried to regain her balance, and he took advantage, leaping into the air and sending a double kick directly at her chest. The blow sent her flying, hitting the ground and rolling to a rest on her side. It was only as she started to get up that Bucky realized he'd thrown her right next to where one of her guns lay on the ground. He saw her grab it, and saw her other hand go to her back to remove a new clip.

With a curse, he spun and ran toward where his shield lay on the ground, hoping to get it before she could reload. He fell into a crouch, grabbed the shield and sprang to his feet, just as he heard footsteps behind him.

He started to turn, only to feel motion behind him. A hand landed on his shoulder and he looked up to see her spinning through the air over his head, her face only a few inches from his, and the muzzle of her gun even closer.

Time seemed to slow as the barrel of the gun filled his vision and Bucky realized it was over. Resignation settled over him and he closed his eyes, instinctively tensing as he waited for the sound of gunfire and the burst of pain that would signify the end. Mentally, he prayed that, when his eyes opened again, it would be to the sight of his girl standing before him.

 

Nothing happened.

 

The hand vanished from his shoulder and he heard boots hitting the floor. He opened his eyes, and the Fist of Hydra was standing silently in front of him, one hand holding her gun by her side.

For several long seconds, they simply stared at one another before Bucky finally asked, "what's wrong? You forget how to kill the enemy?"

It occurred to him she was looking down and he followed her line to sight to see she was staring at his collar, where his uniform had been ripped open. The cut to his chest wasn't deep but it had bled, discoloring his tags and the ring lying next to them on his chain.

"Admiring your handiwork?" he asked, taking the moment to try and catch his breath. He was tired but she looked ready to collapse. "What do you say we end this now and you just give up?"

She stayed perfectly still and, for a second, he had the oddest thought she might, in fact, give up if he just waited another second or two.

As it turned out, they didn't have another second or two.

The door exploded inward and they both turned to see the Howling Commandos rushing in, several other SSR agents close behind.

Bucky turned back, just in time to see the blonde running, toward the stairs where Carter and Malik had vanished earlier.

"Give me a weapon," he barked at Dum Dum. The other man obeyed, throwing him a gun that Bucky caught. "Secure the building," he ordered before charging after the woman.

She was already on the stairs, taking them two or three at a time as if she were at the top of her form and Bucky wondered how the hell she was ignoring the needs of her own body like that.

He charged after her, up to the second floor. The space had once been dedicated to offices, the corridors narrow and filled with doors and dark windows. He saw her jerk a door open at the end of the hall and then heard the clatter of metal stairs as she headed higher.

The door she'd gone through led to a another stairwell, going straight up the length of the building to what he assumed was the roof. There was a landing at every floor and it was at the top one that he saw the woman step over something before slamming into the door and vanishing out into a burst of sunlight.

Following close behind, Bucky saw Carter, seated with her back against the wall clutching her leg. He started to stop only to have her shake her head and say, "I'm fine. Go!"

He nodded once and obeyed. The door opened onto the roof as he'd expected and, as he ran out, Bucky heard helicopter blades.

He rounded the corner of the wall the door opened out into and saw a small helicopter on the other side of the roof. A pilot sat at the controls while Malik stood just outside. The woman was standing in front of him, blocking Bucky's full view of Malik.

As Bucky came around, Malik looked up at him and grinned. The woman stepped to the side, to reveal the goddamn _rocket launcher_ Malik was holding just as the man raised it to his shoulder, and fired.

Bucky managed to get his shield up, only to be blown backward by the sheer force of the blast hitting the metal disc.

He knew he was going off the roof before he did.

It was a fitting irony, he thought, that he would end up falling in the end after all.

Just as it was fitting that the last thing he heard before he hit the ground and blackness stole him away was the sound of his girl screaming.

As he always heard whenever he closed his eyes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	34. Chapter 34

Bucky woke up in a hospital.

It was easy enough to recognize. He'd spent plenty of time in them when Stephanie had been younger, back when the mere act of living had often been almost too much for her body to bear. He could hear the steady beep of machines, feel the scratchy over starched blankets under his fingers and the antiseptic smell was strong enough to evoke memories he'd rather forget.

He lay still for a few minutes, taking a mental inventory of his body. Sharp pain when he tried to breathe suggested cracked ribs and he could feel a variety of areas that were probably in the process of developing spectacular bruises going by the throbbing pain. He had a vicious headache and felt worn out but, considering he'd been shot off a roof by a rocket launcher after getting his ass kicked by Hydra's newest toy, he figured he'd come out ahead.  

He opened his eyes and blinked as they adjusted to the harsh light in the room. He didn't recognize the place at first glance but, then again, a hospital room was a hospital room. Small and stark with little space for much beyond the bed and equipment.

He turned his head to the side and found Carter seated at a small table near the window reading a book. Across from her sat Howard Stark, glaring at a file in his hand as if taking personal insult to whatever it said.

Bucky cleared his throat and both their heads snapped up. A second later they were gathered at his bed, one on either side.

"James," Carter said, her eyes worried. "How are you feeling?"

"How are you?" Bucky asked instead, his voice hoarse from lack of use. The last he'd seen Carter had been sitting in a stairwell, clearly injured.

"I'm fine," she said, her hands gripping the railing on the side of his bed. "Couple bruised ribs, certainly better off than you." She shook her head, tight lines of worry evident on her face. "You just had to get shot _and_ fall off a roof? If you weren't enhanced, you'd be dead twice over."

"Always been an overachiever." The mattress was already raised a bit but he tried to shift, hoping to sit up further, only to give a grunt of pain as his body informed him of just how bad an idea that was.

"Do you really need to be told not to move?" Carter asked in exasperation. "Howard says you'll heal fast thanks to the serum but you still have to stay still and let it work."

"There are guards outside," Stark broke in, "so you don't have to worry about Hydra trying to finish the job while you're down."

Bucky would prefer they try, if only because it would give them another chance to catch someone who could tell them where the final damn facility was. He doubted such an assertion would be taken well by Carter or Stark, however, so he held his peace about it.

"We'll be moving you back to the SSR soon," Carter added. "It'll be safer there."

Bucky ignored her and continued trying to adjust his position until Carter, shaking her head, finally gave in and had Howard help her raise the mattress higher. Once it was where he wanted, Bucky asked, "What about the rest of the guys with us?"

"They're alive." There was something in Carter's voice that had him zeroing his attention in on her.

"What?"

Carter scowled and he saw her hands tighten where she was gripping the rail of the bed. "It's not important. It can wait."

"Tell me anyway," Bucky ordered. He hated when people hinted at something and then refused to elaborate. Leaving it up to his imagination was worse than just outright telling him.

"Hydra is doing what Malik threatened," Carter said, giving in. "They're putting out propaganda claiming you lied about Stephanie dying, to cover up the fact that she'd defected to Hydra." Her frown deepened and anger flashed in her eyes. "Some of the men who were attacked, not the Commandos but those who don't know any better, are insisting the woman who attacked them was Stephanie."

"That's ridiculous," Bucky burst out, only to flinch as his ribs protested. "We have her! She was there, she--" his voice trailed off at the look in Carter's eyes and his heart sank. "We don't have her." It wasn't a question.

"It wasn't her," Carter said gently, looking away as if unable to meet his eyes. "We don't know who it was." She shrugged. "Schmidt could have raided a morgue or a cemetery for all we know." Her look turned compassionate. "I'm sorry, James."

A tremor ran through him and his fingers clutched the blanket until his knuckles turned white. Bucky took a shuddering breath and fought for self-control against the maelstrom of emotions suddenly raging inside him, so fast he couldn't even identify them all much less deal with them. "Hydra still has my girl?"

"We don't know," Carter said softly. "We know they had her at one point but--"

When it became apparent she wasn't going to continue Stark cleared his throat and said, "if they do then she's most likely being kept--"

"At the final facility," Bucky said in resignation, dropping his head on the pillow. The damned seventh facility that, as far as he knew, was in another dimension because, God knew, no one could find it. He ran his hands through his hair as his mind went back to the reason they'd gotten onto this topic. "The tape and the uniform are both gone?"  

"We're looking into how Hydra got the tape," Carter said as way of explanation. "If we've got a mole we need to deal with it."

"Either way it's still gone," Bucky muttered, which meant he was the only witness to what had happened on the train. Carter had seen it in the hotel room but she wasn't exactly impartial. "I don't get it," he said. "It's _Hydra_ for heaven's sake. They trot out a blonde woman with a similar body type with her face hidden and people just accept it's Steph?"

"Some," Carter corrected. "Some people will believe anything. You know that, just look at the garbage she had to deal with from the show and at the base."

"There's also the fact that some of the men are insisting she fought like she was enhanced," Stark broke in. "She held her own against you after all."

"She had guns and was trying to shoot me," Bucky said slowly. "I was on defense most of the time."

"I'm not saying I buy it," Stark said, defensive. "I'm saying others are."

"I'm not sure anyone truly believes it," Carter said, "but it does raise questions and doubt." She shrugged. "We use propaganda to build hope and morale. Hydra uses it to tear it all down."

"We need the girl," Bucky said shortly. "We unmask her and let everyone see for themselves it's not my Steph."

"Assuming there's only one girl," Stark amended. At Bucky's confused look he said, "like you said, she's got a mask on. All they need are girls with a similar body type. They can dye the hair and it's easy enough to fake her having a metal arm."

"Why even bother with the arm?" Bucky asked. "It just verifies what I said happened." As he spoke he pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut, his temples pounding. He'd spent so much time trying not to think of his girl's final moments despite being unable to get the sound of her screaming out of his head. Now he'd been forced to relieve it on that damn video and had to continue reliving it every second since. If Schmidt's blonde assassin had succeeded in killing him then Bucky would have died with the knowledge of what Hydra planned to do to his girl's memory. Since he'd lived he had to witness it happening.

Either way, Schmidt got his revenge against the two people who'd done the most damage to him and his grand plans. Bucky had no doubt the man felt he'd scored a victory against both Lady Liberty and Captain America.  

"The best lies have a kernel of truth in them," Carter said, answering his question. "You claim she was attacked by Hydra and thrown off the train, losing an arm in the process. Hydra claims you attacked her after discovering her allegiance and left her for dead to go help Gabe in the engine. The stories are close enough, just the minor details changed."

"Whether or not she died isn't exactly a minor detail." Bucky said, his voice short. He regretted it immediately and sent her an apologetic look. Then he took a deep breath and struggled to get up. Pain rocketed through him and a sweat broke out on his brow but he managed to pull himself off the pillows and into a full seated position.

"What are you doing?" Carter demanded, lifting her hands as if to physically stop him. "You're not well enough yet."

"I'm fine." Bucky shoved the blankets aside and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "We need to get back to the SSR and start planning."

"For what?" Carter asked.

Bucky struggled to get up, nodding in thanks as Howard came around to pull Bucky's arm over his shoulder.

"Getting my girl back and clearing her name," he said with a grunt as he struggled to stay upright. Pain radiated through him in waves but he breathed through it, leaning heavily on Stark until it subsided to a bearable level. "If Hydra is trying to smear her it means they're going to keep sending out the doppelganger. We need to be ready the next time she appears. We grab her and prove she isn't Stephanie. Even better, here's hoping that girl is being launched from the final facility. We grab her and clear my girl's name and find the last base all in one blow."

A fire was beginning to burn inside him as he spoke.

He wasn't broken.

He was _pissed._

He _was_ getting his girl back.

He _was_ finding that last base.

And, then, he and Schmidt were going to have a face to face.

Schmidt thought he'd won.

He was about to find out how very wrong he was.  

***

_The bakery had been small and little different than others they'd been in with round wooden tables and booths, scattered chairs and a narrow counter staffed by a young clerk who was only too happy to be serving pastries to people instead of bullets._

_They'd been on their way home, stuck in the woods, staying low and out of sight while still behind enemy lines. Jones had spotted the small town shortly after they'd crossed back into friendly territory and had dramatically pleaded to go in. Stephanie, who was as sick of rations as the others, had gleefully agreed. They'd set up camp in the woods nearby and then into the town they had gone._

_They'd been strolling through the streets, Stephanie hanging onto Bucky's arm as if they were on a date night back in Brooklyn rather than returning from destroying another Hydra base, when they'd spotted the bakery._

_Or, more specifically, the apple tarts in the window of the diner. Stephanie and Bucky had seen them at the same time and had nearly fallen over one another to get inside, the rest of the Commandos trailing along after._

_It was nearly two hours before they'd found themselves back on the narrow dirt road leading to camp, empty fields on one side and the ever-present woods they used for cover on the other. It was a rare peaceful day and Stephanie was feeling full and perfectly content...or at least she was until Bucky pulled a wrapped tart she hadn't seen him buy from his pocket._

_"Gimme," Stephanie immediately demanded, putting her hand out._

_"No," Bucky said, pulling it away as she reached for it. "If you wanted another one you should have bought it before we left."_

_"You know this uniform doesn't have pockets." Stephanie swiped for the pastry again but he dodged her with the ease of long practice. "That's why I have you!"_

_He raised an eyebrow. "You keep me around for my ability to carry a billfold?" As he spoke he almost casually held the tart up over his head, barely reacting as Stephanie grabbed his arm and tried to drag it down low enough to pry it from his fingers without destroying it in the process._

_"Maybe," Stephanie muttered. She froze with both arms wrapped around his bicep, in the act of trying to get the tart, her eyes wide with realization. "We're married. What's yours is mine," she announced triumphantly._

_He gave her a disbelieving look. "There are limits, woman. Everyone knows that doesn't apply to tarts."_

_"It does so!" Stephanie punctuated the last with a jump, trying to grab the tart only to have him slip free from her grip. Behind them the Commandos, who'd been well behind them but had now caught up, came to a stop in the road to observe with matching expressions of exasperation and long suffering._

_Bucky held the tart behind him, against his back. Stephanie threw her arms around his waist and pressed against his chest, grabbing his hands and trying to peel them open._

_"At least give me half," she insisted, her face a mere inch or so from his due to their positions. "I'll break it."_

_"Your definition of half is not half," Bucky growled. He went to shift his position, moving his hands away and, as he did, Stephanie managed to grab part of the pastry...and accidentally knocked it out of his hands._

_Both froze, their eyes wide._

_Bucky turned around, staring at the tart where it lay forlornly in the dirt. Stephanie pulled his arm across her shoulders and wrapped an arm around his waist. She placed her other hand flat on his chest and, together, they looked down at the now inedible pastry._

_"Like they're at the funeral of a friend looking at the casket," Dum Dum muttered, his arms crossed._

_"You know whose fault this is?" Bucky asked casually, putting his free hand into his pocket._

_Stephanie gave him an innocent look. "Can we say it was Hydra's?"_

_"Fine," he said without looking at her. He'd pulled his billfold out and was studying its contents. Satisfied by what he saw, he tugged her in to kiss her on the forehead. "I'll be back."_

_He walked back the way they'd come, passing the Commandos and yelling over his shoulder, "Dugan, you're in charge of making sure she doesn't charge any tanks while I'm gone."_

_"That was one time!" Stephanie said in annoyance and he turned and began walking backwards, arms spread out to his sides._

_"Exactly!"_

_Stephanie rolled her eyes but obediently turned and headed to camp with the rest of her men flanking her. Once back they finished setting up and readying for the night. As they were in friendly territory it was decided a small fire could be risked and Gabe soon had one going. They'd picked up a few supplies in town, including several small fish caught by a local from a nearby stream, and soon had them cooking over the fire._

_By that time night had begun to fall, the sky growing darker and darker and, as it did, Stephanie's worry started to grow larger and larger. Images of Bucky being ambushed, losing his way in the dark and lying hurt crowded her mind and several times she got up to go look for him only to force herself to sit back again, mentally assuring herself that he was fine._

_After what seemed like an eternity the familiar crunch of boots on dried leaves sounded and she leapt to her feet, as did the rest of the Commandos, most of them armed._

_Bucky stepped into the firelight, a bag held in one hand, and promptly stumbled as Stephanie threw her arms around his neck and kissed him._

_He wound an arm around her to kiss her back only to give her a betrayed look as she snatched the bag from him and darted to the other side of the campfire to sit next to Dum Dum._

_"Look," she told him, opening the bag. "He got enough for all of us."_

_Dum Dum reached in to grab one. "Great, but I ain't kissing him."_

_Stephanie laughed. She grabbed a tart from the bag and settled back to eat it. Her eyes went across the fire to where Bucky was leaning against a tree, arms crossed, talking to Falsworth. As if feeling her gaze, he glanced her direction and grinned at her._

_She blinked, and Bucky was being blown backwards off a roof._

_She screamed._

She woke up with a gasp.

Or tried to anyway.  

She felt like she was at the bottom of a deep well, water pressing down on her. She was aware she'd been asleep and knew she was awake but the strength to fight past the fog in her mind or so much as open her eyes eluded her.

Bucky.

Had that been real? The first part had been, she was fairly sure, but what about there at the end? She struggled to think but she was so damn tired and everything _hurt._ A mix of sharp radiating pain and dull, unrelenting agony burned in her legs and to only a slightly lesser extend in her arms. Her left shoulder felt like she was being stabbed with knives and she had a feeling of just general _sickness_ all over, worse than she could ever remember feeling from even back before she'd had the serum.

Bucky.

If she could only _focus._

She was lying on a metal table, like a corpse laid out for dissection. There was a thin sheet over her, the barely noticeable weight of it only adding to the pain of her already inflamed nerves. The air in the room was ice cold, causing her to shiver uncontrollably.

What had happened? She struggled through the murk and dullness in her mind, sluggishly trying to sort through her memories.

She remembered the train, and being captured, Schmidt and the chair...and then...

And then...

A distant door slammed, breaking the delicately held train of thought, and then voices echoed around her, one unfamiliar, the other instinctively setting her teeth on edge though she couldn't remember why.

The voices sounded hollow and faint, as if spoken from leagues away, the words distorted and faint.

_"Well?"_

_"Microfractures in both legs, torn muscles and ligaments, cracked ribs and the surgical line for the arm is infected."_

_"How long until she's back up?"_

_"With all due respect, sir, she shouldn't have been up to begin with. She shattered nearly every bone in her body. The serum sped up the healing but her skeletal structure is still fragile. Her legs are especially at risk, she's effectively carrying the weight of her body on matchsticks. The more she uses them the worse the damage will get."_

_"I asked how long, Doctor."_

_"...two weeks, possibly more."_

_"You have one."_

_"Sir--"_

_"That is how long until her next mission, so that is how long you will have."_

_"In that case, I'd recommend full sedation. Keep her completely still, let her body dedicate itself fully to healing her as much as possible. Once it's time, wake her up and wipe her again before she goes."_

_"Fine. See that it's done."_

_"As you wish, sir."_

The hated voice faded and then someone was grabbing her arm and turning it over. A sharp prick in the soft skin of her inner elbow and the hot rush of a liquid entering her bloodstream...

The blackness crested, a heavy wave she had no choice but to bow under.

It washed over her...And Stephanie Barnes faded away.

Again.

 

 


	35. Chapter 35

"Please tell me you aren't going to Howard's presentation in the clothes you were training in an hour ago."

"I'm not going to his presentation period." Bucky looked up from the files he had spread out over a desk in a forgotten corner of the Strategy Room. A couple shelves almost completely blocked the space off from the rest of the room, leaving only the chatter of those nearby to carry over. Carter was leaning against one of the shelves, wearing a red dress and heels, arms crossed.

"Aren't you the one who keeps complaining that I'm not resting enough?" Bucky added when it became clear she had no intention of backing down.

She gave a pointed look at the files. "Trying to find the last installation by staring at reports until your eyes bleed is not resting."

"Critical," Bucky muttered, looking back down at the papers. "You're not my mother you know."

"I should hope not," Carter said, sounding insulted. "We aren't _that_ far apart in age."

"Then why do you keep trying to mother me?" Bucky said in annoyance. He had a file open in front of him and held another in his hand, frowning as he tried to make sense of the two.

"You happen to be the husband of a woman I considered a dear friend," Carter said. "I consider trying to keep her husband from driving himself into the ground as honoring her memory." She hesitated. "I also consider you a friend, not that you don't take every opportunity to push everyone around you away."

"It's easier that way," Bucky said absentmindedly, focused on the file.

"For who?" Carter demanded. "Us or you?"

That finally got her attention and looked up at her, startled,

"What are you going to do after the last installation is gone?" she asked, a knowing tone in her voice. "Once Hydra is defeated?"

"Take my girl home," Bucky said without hesitation.

"And then?" Carter pressed.

"I don't know," Bucky lied. "I try not to think about it."

Tried not to think of the yawning abyss waiting at the edge of his mind for the moments when he had nothing to occupy his time. He felt no tug toward it, no pull on a day to day basis. There was no need for it, it would claim him in due time. After he'd completed his mission, taken down the bastards who'd stolen his girl from him, brought her back home to rest where she belonged...after, when there would no longer be anything standing between him and that pit...

He didn't know.

"I don't have to tell you she'd want you to move on," Carter said gently.

"And yet you will anyway," Bucky retorted. He set the files down and gave her his full attention. "I told her once there was no getting over her. I meant it then and I mean it now." He gave a helpless shrug. "At some point along the way she wrote herself into my blood, and there's no way she's ever coming out."

And that was how he wanted it.

In life or death, he was hers, and always would be.

Carter sighed. "I've been thinking. Hydra's big, bigger than I think anyone realizes, and continuing to grow every day."

"So what?" Bucky asked in confusion.

"So," Carter said pointedly, "they're named after a mythical beast that grows a new head, or three, every time you chop one off. They aren't going away if we remove Schmidt. They'll simply grow another head."

Bucky leaned forward on his arms. "What are you getting at?"  

"Right now, you're technically on loan from the Army," Carter frowned. "What if we made it permanent?"

"Permanent?" Bucky repeated in surprise. "You mean become an SSR agent?"

"Exactly," Carter said. "After--" She hesitated and then said softly, "you know. You could come back, join for good. Help us go after Hydra, fight evil, protect the innocent, make the difference she always wanted to make." She shrugged. "It'd give you something to do, after."

Bucky studied her. "I'll consider it," he said finally. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Carter straightened off the shelf. "Now that that awkwardness is out of the way, go change. You're going to that presentation."

Bucky's eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"Because Howard is your friend whether you like it or not and friends support one another." Carter walked over and very pointedly started closing the folders in front of him. "Now, get a move on, Barnes, or we'll be late. I don't do late."

Bucky scowled but found himself obediently getting up anyway. He was still tired and sore in a few places but, aside from that, felt fine.

"She still hasn't shown back up," he commented as he headed for the elevator, Carter on his heels to ensure he went back to retrieve his uniform and change.

"It's been a week," Carter retorted dryly. "She'll pop back up. We'll grab her and stage a show to unmask her." She frowned. "Walk faster. I meant it about being late."

The elevator door slid open and he went to lean against the back door, raising an eyebrow as he did. "What are you going to do if I don't?"

"Kick your ass and drag you there myself," Carter shot back, standing near the door.

Bucky snorted. "I'm enhanced, remember? I don't think you'd stand much chance."

"Says the guy who got his ass kicked by a blonde in a mask."

"I already told you," Bucky groused. "She had guns!"

Carter rolled her eyes. "You keep telling yourself that, James. Maybe one day you'll find someone who buys it."

Bucky shook his head. "Forget the Howling Commandos. We should have teamed you and Steph together from the start. Hydra would already be dust and ash by now."

Carter gave him a cheerful look. "That would have been a sight to see."

"Yeah," Bucky agreed, quiet nostalgia filling him as he pictured his girl and Carter gleefully dismantling Hydra in the most reckless ways they could think up. "It really would have."

They rode the rest of the way in silence.

 

***

 

The Fist of Hydra stood on a rooftop overlooking a wide street. It was evening, street lamps sending out weak pools of light to create sputtering patterns on the ground.

The street was in disrepair, buildings with large chunks blown out, windows shattered, grit and debris littering everything. Wrecked cars had been dragged to the sides of the road, metal crumpled and bent in unnatural shapes.

It was an odd contrast to the building she was watching, directly across the street from the one she stood on. That building was in relatively undamaged condition, multiple stories and covered in white stucco with large windows and metal grated balconies

People were streaming into the wide double doors on the street level, some walking, others being dropped off in a long line in front of the entrance. The men all wore suits, the women in evening gowns with jewels glittering at their throats and ears. A red carpet had been rolled out for them to walk on and men in red uniforms stood on either side of the doors, holding them open to allow entry.

She'd been watching for hours, since long before anyone started to arrive. There were other men with her, scattered along the rooftop or getting into position on the street below. Some, she knew, were mixed in with the ones entering the doors, taking the place of guests who would no longer be attending.

The building she was watching from was heavily damaged and empty, making it a perfect place to set up surveillance. She'd spent most of her day in one of the upper rooms, sitting behind the tattered remnants of a curtain, studying the street below.

The room had been an apartment once, but was now filled with nothing but broken furniture, trash and debris. Some of it had looked personal, a torn bit of clothing in what might have been the bedroom, a few toys scattered in another room. None of it had meant anything to her but, for some odd reason, sitting and looking out that window had made her feel...odd.

She couldn't put her finger on it, couldn't remember enough to name the feeling she had over it. The fact she could have one at all surprised her though she supposed it shouldn't have. She was human, as far as she knew. This meant she possessed the capacity for emotion; it had just been removed to make her a better soldier. A solider who would not succumb to fear or sentiment, who would not show mercy or compassion at an inopportune moment.

One who would complete the mission at all costs.

Once the sun had begun to go down enough for concealment they had moved to the roof where she currently was. She could hear other soldiers moving about behind her, talking or shifting uncomfortably as they tried to find a better position.

A light breeze wrapped around her, brushing loose tendrils of hair off her face, and she fought the urge to relax into it. The outfit she wore was hot and uncomfortable, the goggles and mask adding to the overall misery of the thing. The small holes in the mask weren't enough to allow her to breathe as much as she wanted and the goggles dug into her face, sweat making the rubber slick so that it rubbed and chafed against her skin. Added to that was the fact she felt generally unwell, her body aching in spots and her left shoulder sending stabs of pain through her every time she moved it. It wasn't enough to slow her down but it was certainly unpleasant.

Down below the steady stream of people into the building was beginning to slow, fewer and fewer coming every minute.

From the end of the street a group appeared and she focused on them, noting the dress military uniforms. Once the operation started she would need to pinpoint their location, they would be a greater threat than the civilians. She counted six men and a dark-haired woman in a red dress and heels.

The man at the head of the group, walking next to the woman, drew her eye. He was tall and well-built with dark, wavy hair and wore the same formal uniform the other males had on.

The group vanished inside and she felt an odd pang as she lost sight of the man. She was sure she had never seen him before and didn't understand why he would have stood out more than anyone else.

One of the soldiers with her stepped up beside her.

"We'll wait long enough for them to start, let them relax and settle in. We'll catch them completely off guard."

She nodded shortly and settled in.

As she did her eyes, almost of their own will, went back to the front door and it occurred to her that she was waiting to see the dark-haired man again.

He didn't appear.

***

They waited nearly another hour.

By that time night had fallen fully. The sky overhead was overcast, blocking out the moon and stars and casting the street in so complete a blackness not even the barely functioning street lamps could truly combat it.

The officer she'd been told to obey, a thin, older man with blond hair gave the order and she obediently hoisted the gun she held in one hand to her shoulder. She raised the sight to her eye and looked through it, focusing on one of the windows on the bottom floor of the building across the street. Within she could make out a few tables filled with the people.

As she watched one of the men seated nearest the window turned his head and looked directly at her through the glass, nodding his head once. He then stood up, pulled a gun and calmly fired it somewhere into the room. This signaled several others to also stand and pull weapons, as people dover for cover around them.  

She pulled the trigger on her weapon and the massive hook lodged in the end of the gun fired with a sharp sound and a kick that had her clenching her teeth as it jolted her left arm and sent a wave of pain through her shoulder.

The hook shot out, dragging a rope with it, and lodged in the stucco just above the window over where chaos was currently erupting.

She unhooked a metal cable from her belt, threw it over the rope, wrapped the ends around her wrists and stepped off the edge. Pain exploded through her shoulder and she let out an involuntary gasp and clenched her teeth.

The scene of the street and building wavered, suddenly replaced by the faded image of a mountain, a train racing along a set of narrow tracks.

It was gone almost instantly and she was once again racing toward a window.  

Her boots hit it and the glass shattered. She released the cable and flew through the opening, landing in a perfect crouch on a table, down on one knee with a hand resting lightly on the tabletop.

Screams and the sound of gunshots filled the air around her, the acrid smell of gunpowder barely registering through her mask. Smoke from smoke bombs covered the floor, leaving most of the room a haze filled with flashes of light as guns fired.

The room was large and carpeted, the walls beige with paintings of landscapes hanging on them. Potted plants were spaced along them as well, currently serving as hiding places for those fighting or simply trying to survive.

At the front was the stage, a tall podium at the center. It was currently empty but she knew the two entrances leading off from it had been sealed, as had the main one leading out of the room. No one was getting in or out, not until the mission had been completed.

She stood up, pulling a gun off her belt and holding it loosely in one hand. Casually she stepped forward and dropped off the table, landing on her feet, and began striding through the haze and smoke toward the stage.

There was very little actual resistance going on. The function had not been military in nature but rather some kind of science thing, discussing technological advancements of the current age. Most of those attending were civilians, the wealthy and powerful of the city. The gunshots sounding out were mostly to keep everyone down, pinning the objective in place to prevent an annoying game of hide and seek through the building.

The return fire was coming from a location to her left, back in the corner. Those were probably the military ones she'd seen entering earlier. They were engaged with other members of her party so she dismissed them and left them to the others to deal with.

She reached the stage and headed up the steps to the podium. She walked to the back and found herself standing over a man cowering behind it.

He looked up at her and his face drained of color.

"Whoa," he said, holding his hands up. "I'm not a threat. See?" he held his suit jacket open. "Just a suit, no weapons."

He matched the picture she'd been given of Howard Stark. She reached down and grabbed his arm, jerking him to his feet and wrenching the arm behind his back.

"All right!" he shouted, arching his back to try and take the strain off it. "I'm not resisting! I'm not resisting!"

She pushed him toward the back exit off the stage. One of the men who'd come with her turned and unlocked the chains used to seal the door, pushing it open to allow her to exit.

"Don't wait for us," he ordered as she passed. "Take him back to Schmidt."

She ignored him. She'd already been given her orders, there was no need for anyone to repeat them.

The door was slammed shut behind her, leaving her and Stark alone in a narrow service hall.

"You know," Stark said as she began pushing him down the hall. "I really think you've got the wrong guy. I'm no one special." He shot a grin over her shoulder at her, for what purpose she didn't know. "I'm just an inventor, and not even a good one. Most of my stuff fails, quite spectacularly."

"Stop talking," she ordered, his voice grating on her nerves. "You're my mission. I don't know why you're wanted and I don't care."

She expected him to shut up. What she did not expect was for him to come to a dead stop in the middle of the corridor. She shoved him, twisting his arm until it was near its snapping point and had to be causing intense pain but he still didn't move.

Instead he turned his head and looked at her, a look of disbelief on his face.

"How could they have copied her voice?"

"Stop talking nonsense and move," she growled. She shoved him again, this time putting her hip and leg into his body to force him. She could have just as easily have broken his arm and used the pain to control him, but didn't. There was no reason for it. She was stronger than he was and could control him just as easily without causing damage.

He started walking but slower and kept twisting around to stare at her. "Not possible," she heard him mutter. His eyes tracked over her. "Your hair isn't dyed," he said slowly. His eyes went to her arm and he said, "is that a real metal arm?"

She ignored him, only to have him stop dead in the middle of the hall again. He craned back, leaning so he was pressed against her and turned his head to the side, peering at her arm. "My God," she heard him whisper. "I can see the suture line. It is real."

"I will break your arm," she growled at him, "if you don't start moving."

"Just not possible," he muttered again. "It's all a trick, part of their propaganda. Maybe they don't even plan to capture me, it's just a trick so I think it's you and then I get away and carry the story for them." He snorted. "Fat chance of that working. Barnes would kill me himself before letting me say a single word."

Barnes.

The name reverberated through her and, somewhere, deep inside, something took notice. She shook her head sharply, and her steps faltered. A blinding pain shot through her temples and she grimaced, her grip loosening on Stark's arm.

"What?" she heard him say. "Barnes? Is that what you're reacting to?" He was silent and then she heard him whisper, "it's a trick, just a damn trick...except..." He was quiet again before continuing with, "except Barnes got shot with a rocket launcher and fell off a four-story building and walked it off and that was on a knockoff version of the serum."

The pain was receding and she started to straighten.

He jerked suddenly, pulling out of her weakened grip. She snarled and lunged after him, only to stop in confusion as he came toward her instead of trying to move away. She felt his hands on her face and wrenched back and away, expecting some sort of attack.

They ended up several feet from one another in the narrow hall. He was staring at her in wide eyed shock and she frowned to see her goggles dangling from one hand.

"You have her eyes," Stark whispered. "How can you have her eyes?"

"Barnes," she asked, tilting her head to one side as the name ran through her mind once again. "Why do I know that name?"

She shouldn't. There was nothing in her mind that gave her anyone she'd ever known with that name.

Stark was still gaping at her, a mix of disbelief and... something she didn't recognize on his face.

"James Barnes," he said slowly. "James Buchanan Barnes. You always called him--"

"Bucky," she whispered, the words drifting up from the recesses of her mind. "My Brooklyn Boy." She grimaced as another bolt of pain stabbed through her temple. Her eyes narrowed. "Who the hell is Bucky?"

The door she'd dragged Stark through minutes earlier exploded and she jerked in surprise, spinning around. Instinct took over and she pulled a weapon and shot out the lights overhead, plunging the corridor into darkness. In the silhouette of light from the open doorway she saw bodies spilling through into the hall, weapons raised.

"NO!" Stark shouted, panic in his voice. "Don't shoot her!"

There was frantic movement, and then he was shoving her back just as gunfire erupted. She hit the wall with him nearly on top of her and dropped into a crouch with him next to her.

"Hey, assholes!" Stark shouted. "I'm here too, you know!"

"So move!" a voice shouted back.

"That you, Dugan?" Stark shouted. "For god's sake, don't shoot her!"

"And why the hell not?" the voice shouted back. "She's Hydra ain't she?"

She pulled a gun off her hip and leaned out, her finger squeezing the trigger. The fools had packed in so tightly she doubted she would need to see to hit one of them. Stark cursed and grabbed her hand, wrenching it up and sending the bullets into the ceiling. At the far end the intruders swore and scrambled to take cover behind carts left in the hall or in other areas.

She swung her elbow back to hit Stark but forget and used her left. Pain immediately locked her shoulder, keeping the blow lower than she'd wanted, and weaker.

"Stephanie don't," Stark ordered, an odd desperation in his voice. "If it really is you, if this isn't a trick, then don't. This isn't you. Whatever they did to you, we can undo it. Fight it."

She stared at him.

"Come on," he pleaded. "Fight it for Bucky, all right? Do it for him."

"Bucky," she whispered again. She didn't know why but that name mattered to her. Her brain felt jumbled, bits and pieces of images and thoughts racing through in a mass of nonsense. "He said there was a kitten in my closet," she blurted. She had no idea where the thought came from or even what it meant and, judging by the look on Stark's face, he didn't either.

"Soldier!" From the opposite end of the hall a door opened and one of the men who'd come with her appeared. "Retreat. Immediately. Reinforcements are here. Bring Stark."

Her mind calmed. She had a mission to complete. She should focus on that.

She nodded and jerked Stark to his feet, holding him in front of her. She unclipped a smoke grenade from her belt and threw it back the way she'd come, watching dispassionately as it exploded.

Smoke filled the corridor and she heard confused shouting, voices ordering others not to shoot for fear of hitting Stark.

"Stephanie," Stark said, his voice intense as she dragged him toward the door. "Stephanie, listen to me. You aren't Hydra. You're Lady Liberty. You're the leader of the Howling Commandos."

She shook her head. "I have to complete my mission."

They were nearly at the door, the handle just behind her.

"You're married," Stark continued desperately, "to James Buchanan Barnes. I don't care what they did to you, there's no way they made you forget him. The two of you are practically one person."

That name again. She stopped, one hand on the handle. "Bucky?" she whispered.  

"Bucky," Stark repeated. "You've known him your whole life. The guy's in your blood. You _know_ him."

The dark-haired man from the entrance.

Longing, her mind suddenly supplied, the word simultaneously bringing a sense of both sadness and fear. That was what that feeling had been on the building's rooftop. She'd seen him, and her heart had cried out for him.

But how was that possible, when she didn't even know him?

Her grip loosened on Stark's arm and he pulled free from her, turning to face her as he did. "Come on," he said, putting his hands out. "Come back with me."

The handle was jerked out of her hand behind her and the door opened to reveal one of the soldiers she'd come with. "What the hell--" he started to say, stepping toward Stark.

She hit him. She didn't know why, but she did. In the darkness past him, barely lit by the dim streetlamps and the moon overhead, she saw several more soldiers coming toward her.

"You should go," she told Stark. "I'll keep them back." She couldn't explain why. Capturing Stark was her mission, not helping him flee.

"Stephanie--" Stark said, a note of near despair in his voice.

She shook her head and, then, before she could give into the other voice, the one screaming at her to complete her mission and take Stark into custody, she stepped through the doorway into the night, and slammed the door behind her.

And then she was surrounded.

"I knew him," she said, as one of them reached for her. "Didn't I?"

"Not anymore," the man responded.

The last thing she saw was his fist coming at her.

Then there was nothing.

 


	36. Chapter 36

Bucky had been trying to protect civilians.

Trying.

It was nothing like a normal operation, set in enemy territory, surrounded by trained and armed combatants.

Howard Stark developed weapons but he wasn't military. He was a civilian and so the event he'd gone to had been civilian in nature, filled with people wearing suits instead of armor and carrying programs instead of weapons.

People had been hurt.

People had died.

The guilt, and outright frustration  of being outnumbered by both civilians and enemy combatants, of being literally unable to protect them all ran deep.

He'd seen the doppelganger when she'd come in, the sound of shattering glass drawing his attention. He'd watched her walk toward the podium and had realized her target but he'd been pinned down and unable to move on her. It had only served to add to his overall frustration. He'd been waiting a week and when she finally showed up all he could do was watch her walk past.

He'd managed to clear the way for his men to go after her and Stark a few minutes later but had chosen to stay behind. Going would have left Carter on her own in a dress and heels with a borrowed gun. As capable as he knew her to be, not even she could hold her own against a room full of enemy soldiers while protecting the innocent at the same time.

So he'd sent his men and they'd come back with a pale and silent Howard Stark but not the woman who they reported had escaped under cover of a smoke grenade. By the time the Commandos had made it to the back door she'd vanished through it had been barricaded from the outside forcing them to go back and around. They'd made it outside finally, only to find that Hydra, and the woman, were long gone.  

Once he was sure things were well in hand inside, Bucky went to check on Stark who was sitting on the edge of the stage with Dum Dum. The man barely seemed to notice as Bucky walked up, staring into the distance and mumbling under his breath.

"What happened?" Bucky asked Dum Dum. Stark, from what he'd been told, had flown Stephanie and Carter over enemy lines to rescue him like the whole thing was little more than a lark. Fear wasn't exactly something that tended to overwhelm him.

"No clue," Dum Dum said with a shrug. "Started screaming at us not to shoot her, or him, then she shot out the lights, tried to shoot us and threw a smoke grenade. Next thing you know Stark comes stumbling up and she's a phantom."

"He didn't want you to shoot _her_?" Bucky asked in confusion. "Why?" It wasn't that he intended to go out of his way to kill the doppelganger but her being alive wasn't exactly necessary to help clear his wife's name.

Dum Dum simply shrugged again in answer.  

Stark stood up in a move so fast it startled both men. "I'd like to go back to headquarters now if that's all right."

"Sure," Bucky said slowly. The local police had arrived along with backup from the SSR and the place was well under control. "We'll escort you." The last thing they wanted was Hydra making a second attempt on the way to headquarters, not that Bucky wouldn't relish a second chance to grab the doppelganger.

Stark agreed and, after collecting Carter and the rest of his men, they headed out. Phillips had sent a truck to get them and Carter offered Stark the passenger seat before moving toward the back to sit with the rest of them on uncomfortable benches.

As Stark grabbed the edge of the door to pull himself in, Bucky idly nodded at the other man's hand. "What color were her eyes?" he asked curiously.

Stark froze and his eyes went as wide as saucers. "What?"

Bucky frowned, surprised at the reaction. He indicated at the goggles that had been dangling from Stark's fingers since he'd come back from the hallway. "Her eyes. What color were they?"

Stark looked at the goggles as if he'd forgotten he had them. "Oh, um, blue." He gave Bucky an oddly worried look. "They were blue, with, um, some green, I think."

"Really?" Bucky asked in surprise. "If they had her eyes right, why bother covering them up? You'd think they'd use that as a selling point." He didn't try to hide the anger or bitterness in his voice at Hydra's attempt to smear his girl's name.

"That ain't right, though, is it?" Dum Dum asked from where he was waiting for Bucky. "Her eyes were just blue, weren't they? I don't remember any green."

"No, it was there, you just had to be close to see it." Bucky pictured her, smiling at him instead of screaming for once, and felt a rush of affection that, for a brief second, was stronger than the grief. "Whenever she'd get jealous, her mom would say it was her green showing."

Stark nodded, almost to himself, and climbed into the cab without another word. Bucky shrugged and headed to the back, swinging himself in with ease and settling on one of the benches near Carter. Several other SSR officers who'd shown up after the incident and were now headed back also got in and took their seats on the bench opposite them. One of them openly leered at Carter until Bucky sent him a look suggesting he wouldn't mind killing the other man, at which point the guy suddenly decided the floor was the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen.

Bucky noticed Carter giving him an amused look and shrugged, apologetically. "Sorry, I know you can handle yourself. Force of habit."

"Just because someone can handle themselves doesn't mean they always want to," Carter said mildly. She smiled at him. "Or that they don't appreciate having someone care enough to step in."

The barest ghost of a smile passed over Bucky's face. "Who says I was protecting you? Steph told me stories. Maybe I was protecting him from getting a stapler to the face."

She laughed. "I'm afraid I left my stapler at home. He'd have to settle for a high heel to the face instead."

Bucky chuckled and settled back against the canvas wall of the truck, crossing his arms and closing his eyes. "Wake me up if it looks like that's going to happen. I'd hate to miss it."

He relaxed, or tried to anyway. He could hear the chatter of voices of the other men talking and the rumble of the truck on the road. He could feel the cold metal of his girl's ring on his collarbone and of his own wrapped permanently, as far as he was concerned, around his ring finger.  

He considered Carter's earlier offer of becoming an SSR agent. It would help, during the day, when he could fill his time with enough distractions to try and forget, for a second or two, that his life had ended on a train over the Alps and he was little more than a walking corpse too stupid to know when to lie down.

It wouldn't help at night, when all there was surrounding him was a blackness that didn't compare to the darkness in his own soul. When all he could hear was her screaming and all he could see were her eyes burning into his as she fell. When all he felt was grief, and guilt, and an overwhelming rage at those who had taken her from him.

Living without her was a fight he wasn't sure he could win.

It was a fight he wasn't sure he wanted to win.

Gravity shifted as the truck turned a corner. Bucky felt the bump as it ran over a sidewalk into a parking lot and then it was slowing to a smooth stop. He opened his eyes and straightened as people started moving to get off. When it was his turn he grabbed the tarp at the back and swung himself down. He turned to help Carter, only to have her hop down easily beside him, her shoes in one hand. She gave him an impish grin before grabbing the edge of the canvas to slip the heels back on. As she did the rest of the Commandos joined them.

Without warning, Stark was suddenly there, still strangely pale and with an almost wild look in his eyes. "I need to talk to you," he said to Carter, his voice intense. "Right now, in private."

"All right," Carter said, startled. She gave Bucky a confused look and then turned and headed inside with Stark.

Bucky shoved his hands in his pockets and followed, much slower, with the Commandos ranged around him.

"Sorry, Cap," Dum Dum said, moving to walk alongside him.

"For what?" Bucky asked.

"Letting that woman get away."

Bucky shrugged. "You did fine. We'll get her next time."

Dum Dum nodded. "Damn straight. No one smears our lady's name and gets away with it."

"Damn straight," Bucky agreed.

Behind him the other Commandos echoed the sentiment.

Stephanie might not be there to protect her own name but it didn't matter.

She had plenty of people willing to do it for her.

***

Several hours later, Bucky found himself alone in the training room. It was the middle of the night and, as usual, he'd been unable to sleep. He'd been holed up inside one of the supply rooms, dozing in a corner, when he'd finally accepted he simply wouldn't be sleeping that night so he'd decided to go beat the hell out of a punching bag, or eight.

He worked until his hair and shirt were damp with sweat and he was panting. It was his hope that, if he could work himself into exhaustion, he might be able to not just sleep but do it without nightmares for the first time in a long time. The dreams had been bad enough when he just thought Steph was gone. The knowledge that Hydra had her remains, and the thought of what they had probably done to her in their pursuit of getting the serum in her blood, had made him physically ill. He could barely close his eyes without seeing her cut apart, dissected, put on display like a sick trophy for Schmidt to crow about to his allies.

With a growl of frustration, he drove his hand into the bag only to heave a sigh as it exploded under his fist, sand spilling out to join the mound already on the floor. Bucky grabbed it off the hook and tossed it next to the other bags he'd ruined. He started to head toward the supply closet, hoping there were still a few other bags left, when he heard the door to the room opening.

He stopped in surprise, wondering who else was up at this hour, and raised an eyebrow to see Stark and Carter entering. Both were still dressed in the clothes they'd worn to the presentation. Stark's color had not returned and his eyes were still wide. Carter, in contrast, looked angry, her arms crossed, color high in her cheeks and her eyes flashing.

"You two have a fight?" Bucky asked casually.

"Something like that," Carter said, her words clipped. "I want you to know I am wildly against this."

Bucky headed toward a nearby bench where he'd left a canteen of water and a towel. "Wildly against what?"

"He has the right to know," Stark said in a low voice, addressing Carter.

"Not when it's speculation," she hissed back at him. "It's giving him false hope when he's barely holding it together as it is."

 "I don't believe it's false," Stark retorted.

"You know I can hear you both, right?" Bucky grabbed his towel and used it to wipe his face off before throwing it down again. He grabbed the canteen and went to where they were standing. "Why don't you just tell me whatever it is you came to tell me?"

Stark fumbled and then suddenly spun on his heel to walk back to the door. He flipped the lock shut and then pulled the short blind down over the window set in it, blocking any view from outside.

"That bad huh?" Bucky asked in resignation. He returned to the wall, dropping down to straddle the bench that ran along near it. Stark carefully sat in front of him while Carter stood to his side. "All right," Bucky said, steeling himself for whatever bad news they were about to drop on him.

Stark fidgeted, anxiously wringing his hands. "I don't really know how to go about this."

"Then don't," Carter said sharply. "At least not until we know more."

Bucky's eyes narrowed. "I'm not a child. Spit it out."

Stark let out a harsh breath. "Okay. Um, so you know how you were pretty much shot point blank with a rocket launcher and then knocked off a roof and you walked it off?"

"I wouldn't exactly call it walking it off," Bucky said, "but, sure."

"And you did that because you have a knock off of a beta version of Erskine's serum in your veins," Stark continued. He took a deep breath and then, in a rushed voice, said, "have you considered how much more you might be able to survive if you had the pure, perfect form in your system?"

He tensed, as if suspecting some sort of reaction, but Bucky just stared at him blankly. "What are you talking about?"

Stark opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, and then cast a, for him, near pleading look at Carter.

She made an annoyed sound and then, in a gentle voice, said, "Howard has developed some questions about the identity of the masked woman, and whether Hydra is actually lying about who she is."

Bucky went dead still.

The silence stretched, and stretched, until finally Stark, seemingly unable to take it anymore, opened his mouth, only to have Bucky cut him off before he could speak.

"I never thought you'd be one of the ones to buy into Schdmit's garbage." His voice was ice cold, belaying the seething rage that was currently boiling in his veins. It was literally all he could do not to punch the other man.  He pushed to his feet, violently enough that Stark jerked back, swung his leg over the bench and stalked to the center of the floor. Once there he whirled and demanded, "This is because of her eyes? That's all it takes for you to believe my girl would turn traitor?"

"No!" Stark jumped to his feet, his hands lifted placatingly. "No, she -- they did something to her, or--" he shook his head, "I don't know, maybe it happened in the fall but she was confused. She had no idea who I even was, or who she was for that matter."

"Then why the hell would you think it was her?" his eyes went to Carter. "You believe this garbage too?"

"Howard claims the woman had Stephanie's voice," Carter said, "and that she reacted to hearing your name."

"So what?" Bucky demanded, throwing his arms out to his sides. "It's a damn trick, don't you get that? The same as everything else! They want you to think it's her!"

"Didn't you hear her?" Stark said getting up. "She had Stephanie's voice. How did they copy that?"

"Wishful thinking!" Bucky said, his voice hard. "Don't you think I hear her voice every goddamn _second_ of--" his voice choked off. He took a deep breath and clenched his hands into fists. "I saw her die, you asshole." He struggled to get himself under control. "Even if she could have survived the fall how would you explain the fact she had half her _body blown off_?"

"You only saw it for a second," Stark said immediately. "It took off her arm but the damage to her side may not have been as severe as it looked. If it only damaged the ribs, but left her organs intact--"

"Shut the hell up," Bucky almost snarled. The image Stark was describing was playing in his head in vivid color and it was all he could do to not claw his own eyes out in an irrational attempt to make it stop. "Just _shut_ up."

He stalked toward the door. He desperately needed to either break something or scream. The best place to do that was the room he was standing in but he didn't trust himself to do it with Stark standing there, lest he ended up sending the man through the wall.

"She called you her Brooklyn Boy."

_"Bucky Barnes, my Brooklyn Boy, you are a charmer."_

Bucky let out a harsh breath as if he'd been kicked in the stomach and slapped his hand on the wall so hard his palm stung. "Every girl on our block referred to her best guy as her Brooklyn Boy," he growled. "And most of the boys called their girls their Brooklyn Girls." It was a badge of honor, the idea that you didn't just have the best girl or the best guy but the best one in all of Brooklyn which, as anyone living there knew, was the greatest place on Earth.

He grabbed the door handle, the metal cold under his hand. "Stay out of my way, Stark." he said, without looking back. "If you have any decency at all you'll keep your mouth shut and not do Hydra's job for them." The _last_ thing he needed was someone like Howard Stark verifying Schmidt's garbage. "She considered you a friend. She deserves better than this from you."

"Did you ever tell her there was a kitten in her closet?"

 

Bucky stopped breathing.

 

_"It's a monster." Six-year-old Stephanie stared at him defiantly, her small arms crossed and her jaw set in the way that told all who knew her just how pointless arguing with her would be._

_Bucky, of course, had never let that stop him._

_"It's not a monster."_

_"Is so."_

_"Is not."_

_"Is so."_

_"Is NOT."_

_"Is SO!" she was angry by the last one and, without thinking, punctuated the statement by slapping him on the arm._

_"Stephanie Grace Rogers," her mother said sharply from the couch where she was visiting with Bucky's mother, "if you start hitting that boy when you get mad he won't want to come over anymore."_

_Stephanie sucked in a sharp breath. Her eyes went wide and filled with tears and, a few seconds later, she was throwing her arms around Bucky's neck and burying her face in his shoulder._

_"I'm sorry!" she wailed. "I didn't mean it! I won't do it again! Please don't go away and never come back!"_

_"I won't," Bucky said instantly. He wrapped his arms around her and patted her on the back while sending a reproachful look toward her mother._

_She in turn sighed and turned to Bucky's mom to say, "you'd think she was the one wronged, not him."_

_Bucky was distracted from what his mom's reply by Stephanie mumbling in his ear, "I still think it's a monster."_

_"It's not," he insisted, pulling away to look at her. "I told you already. I saw it last night when I stayed over. Don't you trust me?"_

_She nodded. "It could have been tricking you."_

_"It wasn't."_

_"Are you sure?"_

_"Yes."_

_"So, if it wasn't a monster...what was it?"_

_What was it?_

 

 

"What did you say?" Bucky's voice was barely a whisper, and harsh as if the words had been torn out of somewhere deep inside.

"She knew your name," Howard said carefully from behind him, "but she didn't know who you were. She called you her Brooklyn Boy and said you told her there was a kitten in her closet, but then didn't know what that meant."

"She thought it was a monster," Bucky said, his voice hoarse. His hand, on the handle, was shaking violently and he was suddenly freezing. "She was six and wasn't sleeping and no one could convince her there wasn't a monster in her closet." His head was pounding and his chest felt tight. "I convinced her it was a kitten," he whispered. His body swayed forward and he planted a hand flat on the door to keep his balance. "It was the only way she could sleep. I told her it was a kitten and she trusted me so she believed me even though she didn't want to."

She'd always been that way, he realized now. She just...trusted him. When he told her the thing she was sure was in her closet wasn't a threat, when she was sick and he assured her she'd get better, when she was facing down a jerk twice her size and thought he was at work.

He turned around to face Howard and Carter and saw from their faces that he must look like how he felt.

 

Like he was splintering.

 

"It must be a trick." His eyes found Stark. "You're lying." His voice sounded pleading and even as he said it he knew Stark wouldn't lie to him, not about this. He couldn't focus, couldn't even begin to make sense of it. That his girl might, _might_ be alive, but with Hydra....with Hydra all this time and he'd done _nothing..._

To think of her _surviving_ , and the pain she had to have been in... the fear...and the _loneliness_ of being out there alone...

 

She would have been calling for him.

 

She would have been calling and because her faith in him was absolute she would have believed he would find her...

 

And he hadn't.

 

For the first time in her life...the most _important_ time...the only time it had _truly_ mattered...

And

He

Hadn't

Come.

His legs buckled and he sagged against the door before sliding down heavily to sit on the floor with his back to it. Carter and Stark were immediately there, kneeling on either side of him. He looked at Carter and, without having to ask, she answered him.

"I don't know." Her eyes were worried and she gripped his forearm in empathy. "But--" Her eyes went to Stark and back to him again. "It would explain some things, wouldn't it?" When he just looked at her in confusion she said, "Why they waited so long to play the card. They had to wait for her to recover."

"Or nearly," Stark broke in. "Based on--" his eyes flickered to Bucky and away again, "the reports on injuries we know she sustained and common sense on what...probably happened when she landed, even with the serum I doubt she'd be fully healed by now."

Bucky's mind went to the first time he'd seen the mysterious woman. She'd been hurt then and he'd assumed it had happened during her takedown of his men and the other SSR agents. He'd never heard anyone, however, mention landing a hit on her later. When he'd seen her earlier in the hall he hadn't noticed any injuries but her entire body was covered in black and he'd only seen her briefly.

Something else occurred to him and he shut his eyes and let his head fall back against the door. His hand went to the collar of his shirt and wrapped around the chain at his neck.

"She didn't kill me when she had the chance," he said dully. "I wondered why." He pulled the chain out, letting it and the tags and ring at the end fall against his chest. He remembered her standing there, staring at him but, now that he looked closer it hadn't been at _him_ , it had been at the tags and ring.

"It makes an awful kind of sense, really," Carter said softly. "Schmidt gets to watch her suffer and have her participate in destroying her own legacy. If she dies and is unmasked it seems to verify his claims. He also gets his revenge against you as, if you killed her--"

She trailed off.

Bucky felt his heart clench in his chest as he remembered thinking about the mysterious woman's death being acceptable only a few hours earlier. If she'd died, or worse _he'd_ killed her.... there was no way he'd have survived that.

Hell, he was barely surviving at it was.

He propped his elbows on his knees and put his face in his hands.

His girl might be alive.

_Might._

It could still be a trick. The evidence, aside from what Howard claimed she'd said about the kitten, was circumstantial, many small pieces that, when taken together, appeared to paint one picture but could just as easily paint another.

Hydra could have had her but lost her to her injuries, or outright killed her. They could have tortured her or done a thousand different things that were going to keep him up at night even more than when he'd thought they'd just had her body.

_God._

He dug the heels of his hands into his eyes so hard it physically hurt. He felt Carter tighten her grip on his arm, squeezing in what she probably hoped was reassurance. With a groan, he put his hands down and dropped his head back against the door, hard enough to hurt.

"What if it's a trick?" he asked, staring ahead at nothing. "Or, worse, what if it's not, but I'm already too late?"

"What if it's the third option?" Carter asked gently. "What if she's alive, and you can get her back?"

"She was there," Howard insisted, tentatively putting a hand on Bucky's shoulder. "She was confused and they had her twisted somehow but she was in there."

The image of her standing in front of him went through his mind again along with a burst of pain so intense it took his breath away as he realized she'd been _right there._ When he'd thought he was about to die he'd prayed his next sight would be of his wife and now Howard wanted him to believe it _had_ been, that she'd been _standing in front of him_ and he failed to see it.

He let out a breath and whispered, "do you know what you're asking me to do?"

"Yes," Carter said at once, glaring at Howard when he gave her a confused look. "We know."

Hope.

They were asking him to hope, knowing full well it could be in vain and that he'd never survive it if it was. They were asking him to rip the lid off a bloody wound that had nearly killed him when the result could be it healing, or being inflicted all over again.

They wanted him to live through the hell of believing his girl _might_ not be dead and that he _might_ get her back.

_Might._

His eyes were burning and his breathing was shaky as he planted his hands under him and struggled to get up. Carter and Howard grabbed his arms and helped him, steadying him once he was upright.

Bucky let out a harsh breath. "This doesn't leave this room," he managed to get out. "If anyone finds out it'll add credence to Hydra's garbage about her defecting." Brandt especially would jump on the chance to further discredit her, even if it meant agreeing with Hydra.

"Of course," Carter said.

"We don't want Hydra finding out we know either," Bucky continued. He ran a trembling hand through his hair. "We need to--" He hesitated, struggling to think of his next course of action.

"We've already been trying to find her," Carter said gently. "We'll keep it up. In the meantime--" she put her hand back on his arm. "Remember you aren't alone in this, James. You have friends."

Bucky gave a nod, not looking at either of them. He reached behind him and fumbled the door lock open before grabbing the handle. He started to speak, realized he had no idea what to say, and ended up simply nodding again before getting the door open and leaving without another word.

Carter and Stark let him go.

He went back to his room.

It was rare he went in anymore for longer than the time it took to change or take a three-minute shower. This time he stumbled in, shut and locked the door behind him and sagged against it. His eyes landed on his footlocker, where he'd placed all his girl's belongings after she'd gone. His parents had offered to store them for him, thinking it'd be better if he didn't see them all the time, but he hadn't been able to let them go. It was all he had left of her and watching over those few things felt like the only thing left he could do for her.

But now Stark and Carter were telling him that wasn't true.

He stumbled forward and sprawled on the mattress on his back, drawing one leg up and letting the other hang over the edge. He pressed the heels of his hands back into his eyes again and let out a shaky breath.

He couldn't think.

His mind was raging, going through all the ways he had failed, could fail, all the ways this could prove to be a trick, a lie, a way that Schmidt really would win because there was no way he could even entertain the thought his girl might be alive if the end result would be it being a lie or, worse, the truth but he still lost her.

Then there was the part of him wondering what she'd gone through if what Stark said was true, what she was going through _right then_ if it was true. What had Hydra done to her? What the hell could they have done to make _her_ of all people not only forget her own friends but fight against them.

And was it something that could be undone?

He groaned and dragged his hands back through his hair, he was going to lose his damn mind.

He pushed to his feet and almost ran from the room, slamming the door shut behind him before the ghosts inside could follow. He went back up to the strategy room and found his way to one of the far back corners of the room. A table was set up back there with a large, clunky phone sitting on it.

He sank into the chair and grabbed the receiver. When the operator answered, he gave his name and the number he wanted and then waited while she made the proper connections. It would take time and include at least one other operator getting involved so he leaned his elbow on the table and pinched the bridge of his nose while he waited.

"Be there," he whispered. With the time difference, it'd be late morning back in the States.

He heard the click of someone coming back on the line and his hand tightened on the receiver to the point he heard it creak in his hand. Then a familiar voice came on the line and he nearly lost it right there.  

"Dad?"


	37. Chapter 37

Stephanie woke up.

Her head hurt and her right eye and nose throbbed in a way that suggested she was probably sporting one hell of a black eye.

She could hear voices and stayed quiet, pretending she was still out. She was slumped against a thin metal wall through which she could feel the vibration of an engine while the floor rocked under her suggesting she was in a vehicle moving along an uneven road.   

Her arms were shackled in front of her, the metal thicker than normal cuffs, which was a waste as she doubted she currently had the energy to break a standard set.

She struggled to think. Her mind was muddled and she felt nauseous. Her body ached as if she were suffering a bad case of the flu and she resisted the urge to try and massage her legs in a futile attempt to relieve some of the pain. Her left shoulder also hurt, a burning pain that sent sharp bursts through her when she made even the slightest movement.  

She could feel a mask over her face, the edges digging into her cheeks and under her jaw, dried sweat and grime causing it to chafe uncomfortably against her skin. She was wearing what felt like a leather costume of some kind along with tight boots that pinched her calves and feet.  

Metal, she remembered suddenly. Her left arm was metal now, which made no sense as she was positive she could feel pain in her actual shoulder and even her upper arm.

More memories sluggishly returned, images floating hazily through her mind, panicked voices, people shouting, the acrid smell of gunpowder...Bucky.

She resisted the urge to suck in a sharp breath as an image of her pulling a gun on him and firing sprang to life inside her head.

Had that really happened?

The last _clear_ image she had was of Schmidt forcing her into that chair and insisting he would make her attack her loved ones.

She hadn't believed it.

It couldn't be true, could it?

There didn't exist a world where she could hurt Bucky.

There just...didn't.

She focused on the memory again and realized Bucky looked awful in it, thinner and pale with deep shadows under his eyes and a haunted look in his eyes.

He blamed himself for her falling. Of course he did, her darling boy. It would never occur to him that she'd considered it an honor, or that he'd been more than worth it. Even now, knowing what came after she fell, she'd have made the same choice.

She would always make the same choice.

In the memory, hazy and dim, the look Bucky leveled on her was unfamiliar, and cold.

He'd had no idea who she was.

Another voice spoke in her head and the memory of a hand scrabbling at her face drifted through her mind.  

Howard.

Had she really tried to hurt Howard?

Ice settled in her veins. Her memories were still so muddled. Was Howard all right? Had she hurt anyone?

 

Had she hurt Bucky?

 

"Damn, what a waste," a male voice, very near her, said.

Taking a chance, Stephanie opened her eyes to just barely a slit. She was seated on the floor at the far end of a military truck. Benches ran along both sides with men in Hydra uniforms sitting on them. The benches ended before the wall and the man who'd spoken to her was at the very end of the bench on her left, his leg and knee a mere foot away from her.

Another of the men, who seemed oddly familiar, on the other side of the truck spoke up. "What are you talking about? Have you seen her fight? The only one worse is that asshole who's running around in her place."

Bucky, Stephanie thought. They had to be talking about Bucky.

Good for him.

"Who gives a damn about that?" the first one replied. "Have you seen her posters? I can think of a dozen better uses for her than another soldier. We got plenty of soldiers. She's better off in that little skirt they had her in as Lady Liberty."

Stephanie resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

The truck slowed and she heard the clanking of a large gate being opened. A moment later the ride became bumpier as they moved over even rougher ground.

"Instead of that leather get up they should have put her in that stage costume of hers," the first man continued. "Can you imagine how it would look in black?"

The other man made a disgusted noise. He was the one who'd hit her, Stephanie remembered with a burst of sudden clarity. She'd let Howard go and gone out to delay the Hydra soldiers, and that man had hit her and knocked her out. "I wouldn't mind seeing her dead," the man said shortly. "You forget how many men she killed? Some of those guys were my friends."

The first man was unconcerned. "It's a war," he said simply, "and we're her enemy. What'd you expect her to do?"

The other man didn't respond as the truck rumbled to a hard stop. People began moving and then arms were grabbing her and jerking her to her feet. Stephanie stumbled and sagged, allowing her eyes to open but behaving as if she were barely conscious.

"Damn," the first man said right next to her ear. "How hard did you hit her?"

"Not hard enough," the other man said shortly, grabbing her roughly by the left arm. It sent a spark of pain through her but she clenched her teeth and didn't react.

Together they dragged her to the exit, pushed the tarp aside and pulled her out and to the ground. They were parked on grass, a plume of dust wafting up around them from the truck's passage. There were rows of other trucks and military vehicles spread out around them while, beyond that was the sheer rock face of a mountain. A large metal door had been fitted over the mouth of a cave, the metal dark and designed to blend into the rock.

The final facility. It was where she'd been all along and the fact she was now back made her wonder just how long she'd been out. She knew the facility wasn't anywhere near London. She also now understood why the SSR hadn't been able to find it. Except for the small staging area outside, easily missed given the woods she could see over her shoulder, the place was underground.

The second man, the one who hated her, let go of her arm and moved off. That left her with the first man who turned her around to drag her between trucks and toward the door leading into the mountain.

As he did his arm slid around her waist. He hooked his hand over her hip, fingers digging in where they had no business being.

Stephanie twisted, away from that hand, and drove her shackled arms upward. Her elbow caught him full in the face, snapping his head back. Instantly she turned back and grabbed the hand that was only then slipping off her waist. She swung, pulling the guy over her shoulder and back and then flung his entire body into the other soldiers who'd been close behind and only just starting to react.

She bolted down the narrow passage between the trucks, rounded the front of the engine...and jerked up short as she found herself face to face with Johann Schmidt.

A second later arms were grabbing her as the soldiers caught up. A boot caught her behind the knees and her legs buckled, dropping her to a kneeling position in front of the Red Skull.

She glared at him, tensing at the expectation of a blow, but, worryingly, he only looked amused.

"Ah, Lady Liberty," he said reaching down to grab her shackles and wrench her to her feet. "Impeccable timing as always. I have something to show you."

The other hands on her fell away as he gripped her upper bicep, of her flesh arm thankfully and not the one currently killing her, and roughly pulled her forward to walk alongside him. With the other soldiers ranged behind her, including the one whose nose she was pretty sure she'd broken and who probably no longer liked her near as much as he had, Schmidt marched her to the door into the mountain.

Inside were corrugated metal corridors, narrow and claustrophobic, with dull lights strung along the top. A nervous looking man in a white lab coat was standing just inside and Stephanie frowned, her mind vaguely identifying him as someone she'd seen before.

"Did she retrieve Stark?" he asked, falling in beside them.

"She did not, Doctor," Schmidt said. "Nor did she manage to kill Barnes as ordered."

Stephanie flinched at the words even as she fought the urge to sag in relief.

Bucky wasn't dead then.

She hadn't hurt him.

Thank God.

"She's fighting the programming," the doctor said. "I did warn you this would happen."

"It's no matter," Schmidt said casually. "She has successfully completed the most important part of her missions. She has proven a capable distraction." His hand tightened on her arm and she looked over to see him giving her a triumphant look. "Thanks to you, we have been able to move freely."

"I don't care what you've been up to," Stephanie said shortly. "You'll still fail."

Schmidt still looked amused and Stephanie tried to hide just how unsettling it was. Schmidt in a good mood could only mean very, very bad things for the rest of them.

"The arm appears to be holding up," the doctor said. He reached over and Stephanie tensed but all he did was pull the edge of her collar back far enough to examine the seam where her metal arm attached to her body. "She's overusing it, it's courting an infection."

"She won't need it much longer," Schmid said.

"Why can I feel my shoulder?" Stephanie asked. She didn't really expect an answer but figured there was no harm in asking.

"Your nerves have been wired into the shoulder matrix," the doctor responded. "They will eventually grow along preplanned pathways through the arm. With the addition of the pressure plates you eventually should have normal feeling throughout the arm."

"Not that she will be alive long enough to enjoy it," Schmidt said mildly.

The doctor sighed. "I wish you would reconsider. I attached the arm to study its usefulness. The experiment will be wasted if she dies."

Experiment, Stephanie thought. She'd wondered why they'd gone to the trouble of putting a new arm on her, especially one the likes of which she'd never seen before.

Schmidt seemed unconcerned. They came to a stop in front of a metal door. Schmidt unlocked it, opened it, and proceeded to unlock her cuffs before shoving her backwards, through the doorway. "You have a half hour to get ready," he said, his voice flat. "If you refuse it will be done for you."

He slammed the door shut and Stephanie heard the lock being engaged again. She turned and found herself in a small, utilitarian bathroom with a basic shower, toilet and sink. A single, sputtering light overhead cast the area in a murky glow. Spotting a pile of fabric and what looked like boots in the corner next to the toilet, Stephanie walked over and knelt to pick it up.

She sucked in a sharp breath as she found herself looking at her Lady Liberty field costume, complete with the boots and the gloves. She ran her hands over the fabric and frowned at the heavier feel to it and the looser weave. The silver stripes across the chest felt different as well, and were just a bit thinner than she remembered.

A replica then, which meant she highly doubted the star and stripes were bulletproof.

She stood up and carefully started undressing. She had no doubt Schmidt meant exactly what he said which meant she needed to get moving.

A wave of dizziness washed over her as she bent to get her boots off and she sat down heavily on the toilet seat. From there she took off what she could before getting back up to remove the rest of the outfit and her undergarments. The air in the room was bitterly cold as was the tile under her feet so she quickly turned on the shower, watching as a weak stream from pipes that sounded like they would give out any minute sputtered out, and got in.

The first blast of icy water set her teeth on edge but she ignored it and reached for the crumbling bar of soap sitting on a small shelf screwed into the wall.  

She washed quickly, gritting her teeth every time she was forced to use her left arm. The skin was pink and warm to the touch and she tried to be as careful as possible to not irritate it further but it wasn't easy. She washed her hair out as much as she could using just her right arm, rinsed and then shut the shower off.

There was a small towel sitting on the tank of the toilet seat and she grabbed it to dry off before pulling her undergarments back on. Then she sat on the seat and reached for the uniform, trying to pretend her eyes weren't burning as she slowly worked it on.

She knew what Schmidt was planning. Maybe not the specifics but the general idea. Her memories were becoming clearer with every minute, enough for her to know what Schmidt had made her do while under his control.

He'd sent her after her own husband. Whether the hope had been one of them would kill the other or they'd both die she had no idea but it didn't change the outcome.

 

She'd attacked Bucky.

More than that, however, she'd tried to _kill_ him.

She'd aimed a gun at him, more than one, and pulled the trigger. She'd tried to kill him and he'd tried to return the favor because Schmidt had deliberately hidden her identity when he'd sent her out.

Now he wasn't. Now Schmidt wanted her in her full costume, Lady Liberty, fighting for Hydra.

She wiped at her face as her vision started to blur. The last thing she wanted to do was give Schmidt the satisfaction of seeing her cry. He could destroy her legacy if he wanted, it wouldn't change the good she'd done in eliminating his bases and it wouldn't change how her friends, or Bucky, felt about her. Bucky would know she'd never willingly betray him.

He _would_.

She had the legs of the uniform on and the boots over them so she braced a hand against the wall and got up carefully to pull it up. She finished dressing as quickly as she could and then sat back down again on the seat.

She had no brush or comb so she combed her hair as best she could with her fingers and then left it down and damp around her shoulders. There was no way she'd be able to lift her left arm over her head to braid her hair and she couldn't bring herself to care enough to try.

She was shivering from the cold and wrapped her arms around herself while she waited. The thought of trying to escape briefly crossed her mind but she dismissed it. She'd been down that road before and knew how it ended. Plus, she imagined Schmidt would be coming in person to gloat and she was nowhere near strong enough currently to take him on.

Memories were still drifting through her mind and she cringed at the images of her attacking her own men and other SSR agents.

Had she killed anyone?

She didn't think she had but there was no way of knowing for sure and some of the memories of blows she'd landed were brutal.

Damn it, her eyes were filling up again. She tightened her grip on her arms and squeezed her eyes shut, working on breathing in and out slowly.

She was _tired_...and everything _hurt_...and she wanted Bucky.

The thought almost had her breaking down on the spot and she clenched her teeth until her jaw ached to try and hold it back. A few traitorous tears escaped and she wiped them off in anger.

She was _not_ letting that asshole win by seeing her like this.

She wasn't sure how long she sat there before hearing the key in the lock but it was at least long enough to get herself back under control. When Schmidt opened the door, she was on her feet, back straight, head up and defiance flashing in her eyes.

It may not represent exactly how she felt but if her time on stage had taught her anything it was how to put on a good show.

Without having to be told she strode out of the room and obediently followed the man as he moved to walk down the hall. Schmidt had six huge Hydra soldiers with him, ranged behind her and to the sides and Stephanie resisted the urge to make a comment about Schmidt's apparent need for protection that would likely result in him punching her, again.

Asshole.

They reached a large door and one of the soldiers went to open it. Schmidt entered first and she fell in behind him with the soldiers staying close.

She barely made it a foot before stumbling to a stop, so fast one of the soldiers behind her ran into her. Ahead of her, Schmidt stopped and turned to face her.

"You see, Lady Liberty?" he said, throwing his arm out to indicate the space behind him. "As I said, you have been a great help in furthering my plans."

Stephanie barely heard him. Her eyes, wide with shock, were focused past him. They had entered a monstrous hanger, larger than any she'd ever seen. At one end, far from where they were, was a platform leading outside. She could see a thin glimpse of blue sky and snowcapped mountains but no other distinguishing landmarks that might give her an idea about where she was.

The major distinguishing feature in the hanger was a giant plane dominating the center. The back of it was currently open and smaller, bomber style planes were being loaded into it. The planes had names written on the sides near the noses, places, and not just any but American cities. She spotted Boston, Chicago...and New York.

"What is this?" she breathed.

Schmidt grabbed her arm, startling her as she hadn't realized he'd walked back to where she was. He pulled her forward, toward where several rows of Hydra soldiers stood in ranks with their backs to her. She was marched past the enormous wheels of the plane, and was promptly shocked again at the sight of what could only be thousands of Hydra soldiers lined up in neat, disturbingly quiet, rows and ranks.

Thousands.

Schmidt gave her an amused look. "Did you really think you were defeating me? You merely set my timetable back. A timetable I was then able to make up, also thanks to you my dear, Lady."

He shoved her and she stumbled, only to feel the soldiers who'd come in with Schmidt grab her arms and drag them behind her back. Pain blistered through her left arm as it was forced into an unnatural angle behind her.

As she watched in horror, Schmidt strode to a small table set with a glass and a bottle of wine.

He then proceeded to turn his back to the thousands of soldiers, locked eyes with her, and spoke.

"In a few days from now, Hydra will stand master of the world, borne to victory on the wings of the Valkyrie. Your weapons will be powerless against us. If you shoot down one plane, hundreds more will rain fire upon you!" Stephanie's eyes went to the smaller planes being loaded onto the larger one. She tensed, trying to decide if escape would even be feasible, only to have the hands on her arms clamp down harder.

Schmidt, meanwhile, had reached down to lift the glass of wine from the table. Raising it as if to salute her, her said, "if one head is cut off, two more shall take its place." He took a drink from the glass, raised it again and said, "Hail Hydra."

Immediately the men holding her released her to snap to attention and cry out, "Hail Hydra!" in return. The cry was taken up by the ranks nearest the plane and then, as Schmidt turned from her to face them, the thousands of soldiers spread throughout the hanger. Before she knew it, the entire hanger was resounding with the shout.

Schmidt set the glass down and turned to face her again, a grin of triumph affixed permanently to his fact. He strode over to her and grabbed her flesh and bone arm in a bruising grip.

"Aren't you getting a little ahead of yourself?" Stephanie said, trying to keep the fear out of her voice. "You haven't won yet."

He laughed. "Keep that confidence, Lady Liberty. You will need it in your final mission."

Cold ran through her but she lifted her chin and stared back defiantly. "You already said I failed the first two times you sent me out. What makes you think I'll do any better the third time?"

"I don't care," Schmidt said. "All I need is for you to do what you've already been doing, distract." He forcibly turned her around and marched her toward another area of the hanger. Behind her, the shouting died down and the soldiers began to break ranks as if obeying some silent command. "I imagine you will be quite the distraction for me this time."

The doctor from earlier reappeared and fell in alongside them. "Are you sure about this? The frequency of wipes, combined with where we're sending her, is likely to weaken the process. We're effectively teaching her how to fight and overcome the programming."

"It will not matter," Schmidt said shortly. They'd reached the far wall and Stephanie frowned in confusion at the sight of several large cameras set up. It was vaguely reminiscent of one of her old shoots and she began to have a sinking feeling in her gut at the sight.

"What do you say, Lady Liberty?" Schmidt said, sounding amused. He dragged her around so she was standing in front of the cameras with the hanger, plane and thousands of Hydra soldiers in the background. "One last shoot before one final mission."

It was harder, this time, to muster up the look of defiance though she did her best.

She really was just... _so_...tired.

Schmidt stood beside her as if they were old friends taking a photo together instead of sworn enemies and Stephanie wondered what the people from her old neighborhood would say when they saw it.

Future generations, she had a strong feeling, would not look kindly upon her.

Her only hope now was that she, or Bucky, or Peggy or the SSR or _someone_ would be able to stop whatever hellish scheme Schmidt was planning...before there was no longer any future at all.


	38. Chapter 38

Bucky sat in the Mess Hall.

There was a plate of food in front of him but he wasn't eating.

He'd been in his room, sitting against the door with his legs drawn up and his arms draped over his knees, staring at his footlocker without seeing it.

He'd been there for a very long time, every muscle tight with tension, his eyes wide and fixed.

 

He was waiting.

 

Waiting to hear word that somewhere, someone had spotted the so-called Fist of Hydra and he could go there.

He was ready, his bag packed beside him, all he needed was a damn location.

Until then, he would wait.

It was all he could do. He couldn't train when his wife might be a prisoner of Hydra. He couldn't read a book while she was possibly being tortured, couldn't sleep while she was suffering.

Dum Dum and Carter had finally come to drag him to the Mess Hall but he certainly couldn't eat when he didn't know what was happening to her. They'd convinced him to try, if only because he'd be useless to her half-starved, but there'd been only so much he could force down before images of what might be happening to her had taken over and he'd had to stop before he became physically ill in the middle of the room.

"You think he'd have the common decency to share, you know?" a voice said and Bucky absently shifted his focus from the food that tasted like dust and ash, over to a nearby table. He recognized the man who'd spoken as the guy who'd been leering at Carter on the truck. The others at the table registered as men he'd seen around but didn't know personally.   

"You're an idiot," one of the other men said. They were keeping their voices low, if it weren't for his enhanced hearing, Bucky wouldn't have even known they were talking much less what they said. "He's not with Carter. Look at him, the guy's barely holding it together. He's still stuck on Rogers."

"Nah," came the response. "She ain't the type you fall in love with. She's the type you have a good time with and then move on. He's moved onto Carter now. I'm telling you, it's not right."

"I wouldn't let him hear you talk about her like that," the second man said.

"Which one? The slut or the Ice Queen?"

Bucky pushed back from the table and stood up. Carter looked at him in surprise.

"James? What are you doing?"

He didn't answer but simply stepped away from the table and over to the one where the men were sitting. They looked up at him in confusion but had no time to speak as he pulled the one up and very calmly punched him in the face, hard enough to knock him several tables away.

"Hey!" the other guy who'd been speaking to him shouted, "what the hell?" He jumped to his feet and launched himself over the table. Bucky grabbed his arm, crouched and pulled the man over his shoulder, shoving up as he did and rolling the man over his back and behind him to sprawl on the floor.

Carter and the Commandos had all jumped to their feet, as had several men at several nearby tables. Bucky had no idea if they were on his side or with the idiots he'd just dealt with so he settled his weight easily back on his heels in preparation.

He half hoped they were against him.

The two on the floor were slowly getting to their feet. As they did, Bucky felt the Commandos take up position around him. Carter stood next to him and put a hand on his arm.

"James," she said firmly. "Don't do this."

"You want to hear what they were saying about you and Steph?" he asked and she frowned.

"What did they say?"

He never got the chance to answer. A loud alarm went off, a blaring noise that echoed through the room, startling everyone. For a second Bucky thought it had something to do with him but then realized there was no way to set off an alarm in the Mess Hall, and doing so just because he punched someone would be a bit extreme.

Carter's eyes were wide. "That's the emergency alert," she said in shock. "We're under attack."

"How's that possible?" Dum Dum asked. "We're in a secret location."

Carter rolled her eyes. "We move a sizable number of troops and vehicles on a regular basis, it'd be impossible to be _that_ secret. We're underground more to avoid bombs than anything else." Her eyes narrowed as she looked at Bucky. "And we never did find that suspected mole. The one who gave the tape to Hydra."

Bucky frowned. Around them the other men in the Mess Hall had erupted in a flurry of movement, rushing out of the room to gather weapons and whatever else they might need to fend off an attack.

"I need to get my gear," he told Carter and she nodded.

"I'll go with the Commandos. We can hit up the armory and go to the security room on this level."

Bucky nodded. Every level had a security room, wired with a video feed that showed cameras from each floor, all created and set up courtesy of Howard Stark.

"I'll meet you there." She left with the Commandos while he sprinted back to his own quarters. He undressed quickly and pulled on his uniform. As he grabbed the chain around his neck to shove under his collar he froze, his eyes widening.

If it was Hydra attacking...had they brought his girl with them?

"Please," he whispered, his hands closing around the chain. He didn't care if she didn't know him. Every minute without knowing if it was really her, every second having to imagine what she was going through if it _was_ her was slowly killing him. If he didn't find out soon he really would lose his mind entirely.

He finished dressing and grabbed the shield where it lay against his desk. He sprinted from the room, joining the ranks of soldiers rushing down the hall. There was more than one exit from every level, stairs, elevators and emergency shafts in the ceilings that could be opened to reveal ladders leading to upper floors. The men flooded to all of them, spreading out so they weren't congregated in one spot, sitting ducks in the corridor for any enemy that might show up in their midst.

Bucky peeled away from them near one of the elevators toward where most of his men were stationed around a narrow door. The security room beyond was small, barely more than a closet. Carter and Dum Dum were inside, studying the bank of screens on the wall with flickering images.

Bucky stepped up to stand between them. The images were of the strategy room, and the dozens of Hydra agents currently spilling from the main elevator. The room was already embroiled in a heavy fight, weapons fire flashing and the air filling with smoke. There was no audio but Bucky could imagine it was pandemonium.

There was no sign of a leather clad, masked woman and he felt his heart sink. If Hydra had any inkling of how he felt they'd simply never send her out again and then sit back and watch him fall apart.

"Come on," he said, forcing himself to focus on the here and now. "We'll use the stairs."

Carter and Dum Dum followed him, the others falling behind. The corridor was largely empty by then, everyone having already moved up to try and repel the attack. Bucky found the door to the stairwell, next to the elevator, already open. Distantly he could hear the clatter of boots on the metal stairs as other men ran up. This stairwell, as he recalled, came out just next to Stark's lab and out of sight of the main elevator.

They ran up quickly, Bucky grabbing the railing when they reached floor landing to swing himself faster up to the next flight of stairs. He started to quickly outpace the others and forced himself to slow down, only to have Carter sharply inform him that the SSR needed Captain America and for him to get his ass in gear.

He obeyed and soon had left them several flights behind him. He reached the door leading to the strategy room, the sound of muffled yelling and gunshots echoing through the metal. Pressing his back to the concrete, he slid his hand to the side and grabbed the doorknob. He turned it and shoved the door open, then pulled his gun with one hand, raised his shield into position with the other and spun out into the doorway in one movement.

As he'd thought, the stairwell let out behind rows of bookshelves crammed full of documents, file folders and boxes. Beyond it he could hear fighting but no one had ventured this far back yet. Bucky saw the door to Stark's lab and headed there. Last time Stark had been the target, it'd be best if the man was moved from what was pretty much the center of fighting.

He let himself in, keeping his shield up to prevent being mistakenly shot, and found the lab seemingly empty.

"Stark?" he called out. "Where are you?"

"Barnes?" the door to one of the back offices opened and Stark peeked out. Bucky caught sight of the rest of his assistants huddled behind him before Stark slid out and shut the door. "Is it over?"

Bucky snorted. "More like just getting started. I'll cover you and your people getting to the stairs. You can go to one of the shelter rooms." There were several bunker style rooms on the lower levels designed specifically for those people in the SSR who didn't normally fight, assistants and receptionists and the like.

Stark nodded and turned back to get his people out. As he did the door opened behind Bucky and he turned to see Carter and Dum Dum coming in.

"The rest went on to help," Dum Dum said in answer to his unspoken question. "We figured you'd steer for the civilians first and headed in to help."

Bucky nodded. Stark arrived with his people and, together, they headed out of the room and to the stairs. Bucky came last, facing where the fighting was coming from with his shield and weapon up.

Stark waited back with him, Carter and the Commandos as his people went into the stairwell first.

"Get going, Stark," Bucky ordered.

Stark started to go only to hesitate and ask, "did you see her?"

Bucky froze and his heart jolted in his chest. "She's here?"

"How do you think they got in?" Stark asked. "They stormed the storefront up top and came down the elevator. They should have been fish in a barrel but--" He stopped and Bucky's eyes narrowed.

"But what?" he demanded.

Stark sighed. "They put her back in her old uniform, or a replica of one I guess since you know..." he waved his hand vaguely and continued. "They gave her a shield and she came out of that elevator like hell on Earth. Never even paused. Didn't go out of her way to kill or hurt anyone, just moved _through_ them and got on the elevator to the lower levels."

"Why?" Dum Dum asked. "What could Hydra possibly want down there?"

"Not what," Carter broke in, her voice tense. "Who. The cells are down there."

From past the shelves the sound of fighting seemed to grow more intense and Bucky wondered if more soldiers had come down the elevator. He tensed, his hand tightening on the grip of his pistol. Everything in him was screaming at him to go back down but that would mean leaving the battle up here.

"Go," Carter said suddenly. "The SSR survived before you arrived, it can make it without you."

"I thought you said they needed Captain America," Bucky said.

Carter gave him a compassionate look. "She needs you more."

Dum Dum stepped up to him and clasped his shoulder. "Go get her, Cap."

The other Commandos nodded in agreement and then they were moving past him and running around the bookcases to join the battle.

Bucky took a step toward the staircase and paused again, looking back. He had his shield on his arm, holding it so tight the edge was cutting into the inside of his elbow.

"Go," Carter demanded. "She's my friend too and she needs our help. Get to it."

Bucky nodded and headed into the stairway, past Stark and his assistants and down.

He didn't look back.

***

The corridors were quiet.

She'd taken the elevator down alone.

She had a mission different from the others. They were attacking the enemy. She was on a recovery mission.

She felt awful. She'd had to fight her way through the large room and it had taken its toll on her. Her left shoulder was a steady, burning pain and the rest of her body was aching. She was shivering and it felt like the heat had been turned up, raising a light sweat on her skin. The shield they had given her felt like it weighed a ton on her right arm, dragging it down and it was hard to not just let the thing fall to the floor and forget about it.

She rounded a corner and spotted a thick metal door set in the wall at the end of the corridor. It was locked, of course, and, with a sigh, she grabbed it with her metal arm, which was far stronger than her flesh and bone arm, and ripped it off the hinges.

The pain nearly made her pass out and she braced a hand on the frame and rested her forehead against the cold metal, breathing slowly in through her nose and out through her mouth. When the pain lessened, somewhat, she straightened and strode through the doorway.

The corridor beyond was narrow and lined with cells on both sides. On the far end was a door that led to the base interrogation room.

She frowned, wondering how she knew that, but dismissed it. She'd been shown blueprints. She'd probably noticed it without realizing it.

Movement came from one of the cells and then she saw Dr. Zola stepping up to the bars.

"Does he want me back to free me or silence me?" he asked nervously.

"Does it matter?" she responded. She grabbed the door and broke it easily, using her right arm this time as the cell door was weaker. She turned and left, Zola trailing along behind her because he had little choice in the matter.

Just as they reached the elevator, she heard a door opening somewhere behind them on the level.

"Take the car up when it arrives," she ordered Zola. "I'll cover you until it arrives."

"What do I do when I reach the top?" the man asked, still twitching nervously.

"I would suggest you find someone friendly and stay with them," she said shortly.

She left him without another word, heading back down the corridor and around a corner out of sight. The halls were long and she hadn't been able to tell how far away the noise had been.

As she passed one area she felt her eyes drawn to a window set in a small door. It had caught her attention when she'd first come down and then again when she'd brought Zola back through but she didn't know why.

Now she stopped to look through the small window. Beyond she saw a room filled with mats, punching bags and other workout equipment.

A training room.

Why in the world would she care about something like that and why did it create a hollow feeling in her stomach when she saw it? The weight of the shield on her arm was becoming unbearable so she sat it on the ground leaning against the wall.

A bootstep drew her attention but she couldn't bring herself to turn away from staring through that small window.

At least not until a voice spoke and caused a feeling even stronger than the one she felt looking through the window.

"Stephanie?"

***

She looked ill.

Her hair, which was down and wild in a way she never wore, was damp, strands stuck to her face where he could see a light sheen of sweat. She was visibly shaking and looked ready to fall over any minute. As Stark had said, the bastards had put her in a replica of her old costume, the colors slightly off and the fit poor. The shield, which she'd set against the wall, was smaller and thinner with thick paint glopped on instead of whatever procedure Stark had used.

 

She looked terrible, and she was still the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen. He hadn't been able to see it with the mask and goggles but now, without all that, dressed as she'd always done, he could see what Stark had seen.

 

His wife.

 

She'd heard him. He knew she had but she was still looking through the window of the training room.

He took a step forward. "Stephanie?"

She turned her head finally, revealing a vicious black eye that made him want to find whoever was responsible and end them in the most painful way possible, and his heart twisted at the empty look she gave him.

"Why are you dressed like me?"

"Because we know each other" he said at once, seizing the opening. He was still unsure, still half afraid it would all turn out to be some kind of awful trick but he couldn't risk the chance it wasn't. "I'm the guy who once told you there was a kitten in your closet."

She frowned in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

Bucky flinched. Could Stark have made a mistake? Could Hydra have someone found an actual double of her, through surgery or some other method?

"I'm sorry," he said carefully, trying a different tactic. Every second he spoke to her his heart screamed at him to accept it really was her. He was already too far gone, he realized now, truly, for the first time. If it wasn't her, he wasn't going to survive it. "Howard Stark told me you'd know what that meant.

She finally turned away from the door to fully look at him and Bucky's breath was taken away as he found himself staring directly into his wife's eyes.

"Who's Howard Stark?" her voice was still so flat, so unlike his girl, like what made her _her_ had been stripped away.

"The man you tried to kidnap the last time I saw you," he said.

She tilted her head slightly to one side as if considering. "I don't remember that."

He frowned. "You don't? What do you remember?"

"Being in the room," she said simply. "Being taken to the plane to come here."

Bucky felt his eyes widen. "You don't remember anything before coming here? And that doesn't bother you?"

"No," she said. "Memories and emotions are a hindrance. Removing them makes me better."

"Or they just make you easier to control." Stark hadn't known if her memory problems were because of the fall or something Hydra had done. Bucky had the answer to that question at least. He hesitated and then asked, "can I show you something?"

"If you wish."

Bucky held his palms outward, placating, and slowly went down to one knee. She seemed to have no interest in attacking him so he placed his shield down carefully on the floor. He stood back up and, still moving slow and careful, reached up to unhook the chain around his neck. It took him a second as he understood he was about to move past the point of no return, from hope to cold hard truth and it might not be the truth he wanted. He tugged the chain loose from under his collar and held it up, the tags and ring swaying gently. "Does this mean anything to you?"

She studied the objects with dispassion and he felt his heart clenching in his chest.

 _Please_ , he prayed. He didn't even know specifically what he was asking for, his emotions far too jumbled to make sense of them, everything simply coalescing down into one, heartfelt, desperate thought.

_Please._

She put out a hand and lightly touched the tags, and then the ring. Bucky tensed, every muscle in his body rigid as he waited.

"Romantic proposal," she murmured, almost to herself. "I can see why you have so much success..." her voice cut off and she moved back quickly as he let out a heavy breath and his legs buckled. He stumbled into the wall and braced himself with a hand against it. Something inside him seemed to crack open and he sucked in a hard breath as emotion he'd ignored for far too long welled up inside him.

His girl wasn't dead.

He wanted to laugh out loud.

His girl.

_Wasn't._

Dead.

It was like he'd been on death row and pardoned or drowning in the sea only to have a hand reach out to save him. He didn't care if she couldn't remember him, if she thought she was Hydra, if she'd tried to kill him the last time they'd really met.

None of it mattered.

Because his girl was _alive._

He was being given the second chance he'd wanted so badly it had caused a physical ache inside him.

And he damn well wasn't wasting it.

When he finally found the strength to speak his voice was hoarse and he knew if he had a mirror he'd see his eyes rimmed with red in it. "Thought you didn't do romance," he managed to get out and she tilted her head again, studying him.

"Do I know you?" she repeated.

" _Yes,_ " he said desperately. "My name is James. James Buchanan Barnes. You always call me Bucky."

"Bucky," she whispered and he was startled to see her clench her jaw as her own eyes welled up with tears.

"What's wrong?" he asked gently, using everything he had to keep from going over to her.

"I'm _tired_ ," she said, her voice breaking at the end. She met his eyes and the look in hers was so goddamn _lost_. "I'm just so _tired_ , Bucky."

That did it and, without thinking, he stepped forward and carefully hugged her. She stood stiffly in the circle of his arms. He shifted, accidentally bumping her left arm as he did, and tensed as he heard her make a pained sound. Immediately he pulled back, looking at her in concern. "What's wrong?"

"It hurts."

"What does?" he dropped his arms but stayed where he was, right in front of her.

"Everything," she said and then, "my shoulder."

Bucky's eyes narrowed. With her uniform and gloves on it was impossible to see her bare arms but he remembered enough to know her left one was a metal prosthetics of some sort. "Can I see?"

She stayed still, considering, and then, without a word, she gave a short nod and proceeded to turn her back on him.

***

She knew not to turn her back on the enemy, but she did anyway.

She wasn't sure why.

She just...did.

She felt his hand lightly brushing her hair over her right shoulder and had to resist a strong urge to lean back into it. A moment later the tab to the hidden zipper that ran up the back of her costume was lifted and tugged down, opening the back of her uniform just a few inches.

Cool air washed over her shoulder as he drew the collar back and she heard him give a sharp hiss.

"Sweetheart, this is infected."

"Is it?" she asked. She couldn't remember. When she'd become aware inside that room she'd already had the uniform on and hadn't been able to see the arm.

There was silence and then she felt the lightest touch on the plate set into her side. His fingers trailed down it, sliding inside her uniform and moving to just where it ended at the band of her bra. An inexplicable shiver ran through her and she heard him ask, "can you feel that?"

"Yes," she said. He removed his hand and she tried to pretend she wished he hadn't. He gently pulled the zipper closed again.

She turned and, without even truly realizing she was going to do it, leaned forward and kissed him.

***

The action took him completely by surprise.

He'd still been trying to get his mind around the fact that his girl had a metal plate set into the side of her body. He understood she'd lost an arm and that it'd been replaced by a metal one but he'd assumed it had been attached to her shoulder in a way similar to other prosthetics he'd seen, via straps and buckles

He hadn't realized they'd actually set a metal plate into the side of her body and attached the arm to that. He also hadn't known the entire thing was infected, the metal ringed with puffy, reddened flesh running in a complete loop all the way around.

It had to be agonizing. No wonder she was exhausted. Continual pain like that would sap the physical and emotional strength of anyone.

That was what he'd been thinking so when she'd turned and kissed him, little more than a peck on the lips before it was gone again, he'd almost been convinced he'd imagined it.

Then she frowned at him and asked, "why did I do that?"

Bucky reached out and lightly put a hand on her face, not on the side where she had a black eye. He brushed his fingers across her cheek and felt her shift just enough so that she was pressing into his hand slightly. He hooked his fingers around the curve of her jaw, and said, "this is why."

He kissed her.

He started out slow, barely touching his lips to hers and then holding still. She was completely motionless at first but then he felt her lean forward into him. He moved, pressing in closer to her and deepening the kiss. She started to respond and he felt her right hand come up to lightly grab the front of his uniform.

She seemed content to let him lead so he did, keeping it slow but intense. He tried to put his soul, and the true depths of his feelings into it.

He broke off after what seemed like an eternity, ending it with a series of shorter, equally intense, kisses before resting his forehead against hers.

***

She wanted to stay with him.

She shifted to press the side of her face against his, tightening her grip on his uniform as she did. A clear image floated through her mind, lying in a bed on her side tracing patterns on the back of a man lying next to her. His arms were folded under his pillow and his head turned away from her but she still knew exactly who he was.

"Are you mine?" she whispered.

"Heart and soul," he answered. His free hand moved to her hip and she sighed and allowed her head to drop forward onto his shoulder while her body sagged forward to lean against his.

"I'm tired," she whispered.

"I know," he answered. He kissed her on the side of the head. "Stay with me. Let us deal with Schmidt. You can rest."

Schmidt.

She pulled away from Bucky. "Who is Schmidt?"

The name meant something. Something important.

"Johann Schmidt," Bucky said. "Sometimes referred to as the Red Skull."

"Oh, him." She frowned and then backed away several steps. "I have to go now."

His eyes widened with what looked like panic. "No, Steph, you don't have to go. You can stay."

She shook her head. "I can't. It's important. I have to go back."

She paused, uncertain, then retrieved her shield and started heading down the hall.

***

Bucky left his own shield and charged after her, getting in her way but not touching her. "Why do you have to go back?"

"I don't remember," she said, "but it's important."

He was talking to Stephanie, Bucky suddenly realized, or as much of her as was currently able to fight off whatever the hell Hydra had done to her.

"You know something," he said slowly. "Schmidt told you," or gloated more likely, "and then made you forget."

It made sense, a way to ensure she came back because Stephanie would always try to save the world, no matter how confused she was. Whatever Schmidt had told her had affected her deeply enough that even without her memory she was focused on returning.

He moved closer and, as carefully as he could, wound an arm around her waist. "Let me help you."

She almost started crying again, he could see it in her eyes. She leaned forward and kissed him. "Help me," he heard her whisper. "Bucky, _please_."

"Always," he said. "Tell me where Schmidt is."

"A mountain," she said at once, "surrounded by woods."

She kissed him again, as if it were the last time she ever would, and pulled away. "They'll make me forget you."

"I'll remind you." He had no intention of letting her go, but he didn't know how to stop her without using force and he couldn't bring himself to do it. She was in so much pain and already suffering from an infection and fever. If she fought him it would only make it worse.

She had started walking again and he joined her. She cut a sidelong look at him but didn't otherwise react. It occurred to him that leaving his shield had probably been a bad idea but he couldn't risk losing track of her to go back and get it.

They reached the stairwell and she entered it, moving up them at a speed that belied how sick she was.

When they arrived at the top floor the sound of fighting was every bit as loud as it had been when he'd gone down.

"Here," his girl said suddenly, shoving her shield into his hands. "You should take this."

"No," he started to say but before he could get it out she was gone, vanishing through the door.

His heart leapt into his throat and Bucky swore before lunging out the door after her.

He emerged into utter chaos.

He had no idea how many Hydra soldiers had come down or how many SSR agents were resisting them. What he did know was the SSR was doing an amazing job at keeping the enemy contained and that the strategy room, while large, was not nearly big enough to contain all the people inside it.

It was pure bedlam. The fighting was to close for guns to be reasonably used without risk of shooting an ally so it had devolved to hand to hand combat.

He'd already lost sight of his girl so, swearing loudly, he waded in.

Given his current emotional state, and the fact he was enhanced and they weren't, the battle didn't last much longer after his arrival. He gave no quarter and wasted no time, but simply went through them, using his shield when possible, and his fists the rest of the time.

Before long the fighting was over and all that was left were bodies on the main floor, Hydra and SSR alike, some alive...some not.

Carter and the Commandos were standing guard over the Hydra prisoners gathered together in a corner of the room. Bucky was standing near a table, absently reloading his pistol. He had the bullets in a line on the table top and was loading them one by one, casting glances at the prisoners as he did.

"Did you find her?" a voice asked and he looked to his side to see Carter had come over.

"I did, but she got away." He loaded the last bullet.

"Was it her?"

"It was her." He turned and strode over to the prisoners. Before he reached them he very casually raised his pistol and shot out the kneecap of the nearest prisoner.

The man screamed and fell but Bucky was already moving onto the next man in line, his pistol raised and pointed at him. Around him the entire room had fallen dead silent.

"You have five seconds to tell me where the facility you came from is located."

The man sneered at him. "Screw you. You--" his voice cut off in a scream as Bucky casually shot out his kneecap and moved onto the next man in line.

"Five seconds."

Carter arrived at his side. "Bucky, this isn't right."

"The dead SSR agents you had to step over to get here aren't right," he said sharply. "The fact they've brainwashed my girl and are running her until she breaks isn't right." He raised an eyebrow at the man. "Well?"

"Um," the man stammered. "Um...it's...it's in a ravine--"

Bucky pulled the trigger. "That's a lie." He moved to the next man and gave him the same offer, five seconds to tell him where the facility was or get shot in his kneecaps.

As it turned out, this man was more reasonable than the others.

It only took him two seconds to give Bucky what he wanted.

 

 

 

 


	39. Chapter 39

"Did you really have to kneecap them?"

Bucky barely spared a glance from where he'd been staring fixedly ahead at the rows upon rows of trees they were crossing through. "No. I could have shot them in the head."

Carter sighed in exasperation before settling back in place next to him. She was wearing pants and quite enjoying the freedom of being able to move however she wanted without having to worry about what her skirt was doing.

Dum Dum was on Bucky's opposite side while Gabe and the other Commandos were ranged around him.

The rest of the men were out of sight somewhere well behind them.

Apparently, Bucky made them nervous.

After getting the information on the final facility he'd been ready to go at once, alone if need be. Carter had managed to convince him to wait for a force to be gathered while Bucky had gone and convinced Phillips that his girl's insistence on the need to return, in spite of her clearly recognizing she didn't belong, was proof Schmidt was planning something very big, and very soon.

Carter had given him a worried look when he'd emerged from Phillips' office but he'd rolled his eyes in return. Phillips wasn't his enemy and the man was a good enough leader to know when to listen to his men. Stephanie had grown to respect him and the man had earned Bucky's respect in turn.

Bucky had _talked_ to him, as a leader and a friend, and the man had listened.

If he hadn't, Bucky would have simply gone on his own.

As it was, however, Phillips had pulled together a sizable force in a ridiculously short amount of time. That had then led to a ride in a plane, followed by travel in trucks and now, a march through the woods.

Phillips had led them personally.

Bucky had been out of the truck and gone before it had fully stopped, Carter and the Commandos barely catching up and, even then, only _just_ keeping up.

He was _trying_ to stay slow enough to not just leave them.

He was trying, but all he could see was the raging infection on his girl's shoulder, the fever in her eyes, and the desperate plea in her voice.

_Help me. Please, Bucky._

She'd literally begged him for help. He'd never heard her beg, not when she was at her sickest, not when she was coughing so hard she sounded like she was choking and would curl into his chest, one hand clutching at his shirt. Every so often she'd lift her head to force a smile, trying to reassure _him_ even in the midst of her own fear and suffering.

She'd never _once_ begged, not for anything.

To hear her do it, to have her beg _him_ when all she'd ever had to do was ask and he'd give her anything she wanted, to know Schmidt had pushed her to such a point...

It was all he could do not to break into a full out run.

Dum Dum held up a hand and Bucky stopped and dropped into a crouch behind a tree. Leaning forward with one hand braced on the ground, he peered around and felt his breath catch at the sight of a small clearing filled with military vehicles. Past it was a mountainside with a large door set in it. There were men in Hydra uniforms moving about and occasionally going through the door.

"The others will catch up soon," Dum Dum said, giving him a look. "We should wait."

Bucky nodded. "Fine." He wasn't dumb enough to rush in and get himself killed. Stephanie deserved better than that. "Try to watch for patterns," he instructed Carter and his men. "See if there are any routines we can take advantage of."

The others nodded in agreement and then, in what was one of the hardest things he'd ever done, Bucky settled in to wait, knowing all the while his girl was somewhere just beyond that door.

 _"You've always looked after that girl, and she's always looked after you,"_ his father's voice floated through his mind. He'd just learned his girl might be alive, and might not have any idea who he was and the only thing he could think to do was call his dad. _"The fact her mind can't remember you doesn't mean her heart won't. She's waiting. Go get her, son."_

Bucky took a deep breath and forced himself to settle.

 _Just a little longer now, Darling,_ he thought. _Just a little more._

_I'm coming._

***

 

"You managed to succeed for once, congratulations."

Schmidt.

The man speaking to her was the one Bucky had called Schmidt.

She'd returned to the mountain, bringing Zola with her and the survivors from the raid on the SSR base.

She remembered it was called that, SSR. She hadn't known before. They had simply told her where to attack and she had. It was only after meeting Bucky, and then on the way home, that more had started to return.

The memories were hazy, and dim, and she was too tired to focus on them.

Some of them had Bucky, or his voice at least, the sensation of his body next to hers or the smell of the aftershave he favored.

She tried to focus harder on those memories. She wanted them back, but she was just so damn _tired._

After returning she'd been ordered to report to Schmidt and had obeyed, finding him in his office. Zola was in there ahead of her and she'd waited against the wall outside for him to be finished.

She heard footsteps and saw a man in a white lab coat walking up. A hazy memory rose and her mind foggily identified him as the doctor who'd replaced her arm.

Once Zola had left she'd gone in with the doctor behind her.

The almost visceral reaction she'd had when seeing Schmidt had been all the evidence she needed to verify what Bucky had said, that her memories had been taken to control her. She still wasn't sure exactly why she felt such a reaction to Schmidt, or why it'd been important to return, but she knew one thing beyond a shadow of a doubt.

She hated him.

The doctor stepped up beside her after Schmidt had finished speaking. "I wondered, if you don't need her for anything immediately, could I borrow her? I'd like to check her arm."

Schmidt had gone to his desk and absently waved his hand in agreement. The doctor turned to her.

"Follow me, please."

Obediently, she followed him out into the hall. Her memories of him were as vague and hazy as anything else but her feelings toward him were neutral. He led her down several levels and through a set of metal doors. Past them was a large room filled with beds and medical equipment. There were a few other people in white coats in the lab and a couple of the beds had patients in them. He nodded toward one near the back corner and said, "go wait over there, please."

Again, she obeyed. She had an almost overpowering feeling that there was something important she needed to do but couldn't remember what it was.

She reached the bed, turned, and carefully worked herself on until she was sitting comfortably on the edge. A few minutes later the doctor came back, pushing a cart with all manner of tools and things she didn't recognize on it. She tensed, feeling her heartrate pick up and clenched her hands nervously in her lap. Her arm already hurt and she didn't relish the thought of anyone touching it.

The man started to say something to her, only to frown and then turn and walk away. He grabbed a large screen set in a square metal frame and on wheels and rolled it over, blocking the area off so she couldn't see the rest of the room and no one in it could see her.

"All right," he said, once the screen was in place. "Let's see what you've done to my best work."

She reached back over her shoulder with her good hand to shove the zipper down as best she could at the back of her uniform. She then moved her hand her hand down to reach up and grab it from underneath to pull it down the rest of the way to her waist.

She slid the left shoulder off carefully, managing to keep the fabric up over her chest as she did until just the arm and her shoulder were bare. The back gaped open a bit, revealing her side and back but there was nothing she could do about it.

It occurred to her that, when she didn't remember anything at all she was less concerned with modesty but the doctor didn't seem to notice or care. All his attention was on her arm and he was frowning critically.

"You realize this is infected?" he asked as if she'd personally affronted him.

"I have to use it when I fight," she answered, trying to keep her voice as flat as possible.

He reached out his hand to touch it and she couldn't resist a flinch at the expectation of pain. To her surprise, he stopped, still frowning, and then said, "wait here a moment."

He vanished, only to return a short time later holding a syringe. "Let me see your other arm."

She obediently slid the fabric down on the other arm, still holding the uniform up over her chest, and he lightly swabbed the area and then administered the shot.

"It'd be best if I could sedate you," he said, as he set the needle down, "but I imagine that would not go over well with certain individuals. This should help some at least. It will take effect quickly."

She could already feel the pain lessening, not vanishing entirely, but the edge certainly coming off and dulling. The tension in her muscles eased and she sighed in relief "Thank you."

He grunted in response. He'd gone back to look at her left shoulder and was studying it. "This needs to be cleaned," he said finally. "There is no way to do it without pain but I will try to do it quickly."

"All right," she said.

He wasn't wrong about the pain. It hurt but not nearly as much as it would have without the shot. He didn't go out of his way to be gentle but he also didn't do anything to cause her needless pain. He was quick and efficient, finishing faster than she'd expected.

After he was done he gave her a second shot that he explained would help with the infection. He then gathered up strips of bandages, slathered them with some kind of thick ointment and began carefully wrapping her shoulder. Whatever he'd put on them was cool and felt amazing on the still warm skin of her arm. He taped more strips around the plate set in her side, nudging her uniform aside when he needed to reach the portion nearer her chest but making no attempt to push it any further than necessary to put the bandages in place. She felt his fingers resting on the plate, barely touching her side at times and only when it was necessary to tape the bandages down.

"All right," he said finally, stepping away. He nodded toward a door in the wall near her. "There's a bathroom there. You can get washed up. I'd suggest you lay down after that and try to rest. There's no telling when you'll be sent out to destroy all my hard work again."

She nodded and carefully pulled her sleeves back up and zipped it up while he scowled at her arm. "If I'd known he planned to send you out before you were healed I'd have reconsidered putting the arm on you. He fails to understand the importance of this experiment. If successful it could revolutionize the prosthetic industry."

She slid off the table to stand in front of him. "Doesn't he only want perfect people? I don't think he'd have room for those in need of help in his new world."

New world. That was right. Schmidt wanted to recreate the world. She just couldn't remember how.

The doctor's scowl deepened. "Not if I can convince him that the arm I've given you is as good as your old one. I've been trying to persuade him to let me keep you after he's done sending you out every five minutes."

There was nothing suggestive in his tone or mannerisms as he spoke. His interest in her was purely driven by the arm. "Good luck," she said, stepping past him. She hesitated and added, "thank you, for the arm."

That earned her another grunt, and then he turned and wandered off, appearing deep in thought over something, probably having to do with her arm.

She made her way slowly into the small bathroom he'd pointed out but only long enough to use the facilities and splash water over her face. Once done she exited and found a k-ration and canteen of water sitting on the small bed. The screen was still in place, giving her privacy, so she gingerly pulled herself into the bed and ate the ration before washing it down with the water from the canteen.

After, she stretched out on her back, ankles crossed and hands linked and resting on her stomach. She already felt leagues better. The pain medication had helped the near constant aching in her arms and legs and it, and the cleaning and ointment, had banked her shoulder to a bearable throb. She allowed herself to sink into the thin mattress and closed her eyes.

She drifted off almost immediately but her rest was far from peaceful. Images flooded her mind, fragments, voices, all jumbled and chaotic, like she had been thrown into the midst of a room of people all speaking at once.

When she opened her eyes again it was to the sight of Schmidt standing over her. Her fever, she noted, was almost completely gone and when she sat up she still felt tired but was no longer shaking with it.

Schmidt ordered her to her feet and led her out of the room. As they went she noted they were the only ones there, everyone else, even the other patients, were gone.

She was led down the hall and frowned as, distantly, she heard yelling and gunshots.

"Are we under attack?"

"Are you surprised?" he asked. "I shouldn't be. Even in this state you manage to upset my plans." He stopped and faced her. "But no matter. Your friends may have followed you but they are already too late."

Bucky, she thought.

Bucky had come for her.

He'd promised he would help her and he was.

She realized she'd never doubted it. She still didn't remember him exactly, the images and voices that had come to her while sleeping were far too jumbled to make sense of but she knew enough to know he was hers, and that she trusted him implicitly.

Schmidt took her to a room with a large chair surrounded by machinery in the middle. Her steps slowed. She knew that chair. She didn't know how or why but she knew it. Schmidt ordered her to sit in it and she obeyed, but it made her stomach clench and her hands curl into fists. Whatever happened in this chair, it wasn't good.

She glanced up at Schmidt where he was looming over her.

_"They'll make me forget you."_

She hadn't understood the words when she'd blurted them out to Bucky but she was beginning to.

She didn't want to forget.

She wanted to remember.

She wanted _Bucky._  

Schmidt pushed a button and large metal clamps came down over her wrists, causing her to jump and let out a quiet gasp. Schmidt walked over to throw a few buttons and the chair moved, taking her to a reclined position. She felt her breathing start to increase, her fingers flexing with the desire to do...something.

Two pieces of metal with lights came down along either side of her face and she grimaced, squirming in the chair and against the straps.

Schmidt reached for another panel and flipped a few more switches. She heard a tone sound from a speaker in the corner. Schmidt leaned forward to speak into a microphone on the console and his voice reverberated through the speaker on the wall.

"Greetings, Captain." he said, conversationally. "I have prepared a gift for you. Let it never be said I was not a good host."

He grabbed the microphone and turned it toward her, and then flipped a switch on the console.

Burning, tearing pain ripped through her mind and her entire body arched, pulling against the clamps. Her mouth opened and a horrific scream echoed through the chamber, followed quickly by another and another after that. The pain scorched through her brain and suddenly she couldn't remember the name of the man at the console or the name of the organization he worked for.

Bucky.  

Bucky. The man from the corridor.

He said his name was Bucky.

She wanted to remember that. She no longer knew why but she wanted to remember. She fought back against the pain, struggling to hold onto him and his name through the waves of agony radiating through her. The sound of her own screaming grew hoarse as her voice gave out. She could feel the name slipping, his face fading and growing indistinct and her voice took on a note of despair as she started to lose her grip.

And, then, just as suddenly, it all stopped.

She collapsed against the seat, gasping.

The man at the console slapped a button near a microphone and walked around it toward her.

She couldn't say what his name was or why he started reciting nonsense words. She couldn't say why she couldn't remember her own name, or if she'd ever had one to begin with.

But there was one thing she remembered.

One word.

She had no context for it, no understanding of what it was or what it even meant but she remembered it.

_Bucky._


	40. Chapter 40

By the time Phillips and the rest of the group arrived, Bucky had established there was, in fact, a pattern. He relayed it to Phillips who ordered everyone to get in place and wait for the next time the door would open.

Bucky, meanwhile, put his shield down and carefully climbed the tree he was hiding behind to settle on a branch. Dum Dum tossed his rifle up and Bucky caught it in one hand and aimed it at the door into the mountain.  

The next time it opened he dropped the man coming out, leaving the door ajar and temporarily unguarded. Philips gave the order and their forces charged en masse. Bucky saw another Hydra soldier running for the door to close it and dropped him as well as a third coming from inside to try and do the same.  

Bucky waited for it to become clear the SSR was going to take the yard before he dropped out of the tree, retrieved his shield from Dum Dum who'd waited below to provide him cover, and joined in.

They made entry fast, before Hydra could muster enough troops to block the narrow corridor into the mountain and turn it into a fish in a barrel scenario.

They spread out, running through identical looking corridors and halls as they fought their way through. Bucky took the lead, using his shield to both provide cover for the others and to clear out the way ahead. He spotted elevators several times and felt his heart sink at the realization the base was similar to SSR headquarters in that it had multiple levels. There was no way of telling which floor Stephanie was on.

Left with little choice, he simply started moving going where Carter and the Commandos wanted, and praying that he was headed toward his girl and not away. He was afraid of what Hydra might do to her simply to spite him but, more than that even, he was afraid of what some of his own people might do. There were some who didn't believe the story that Stephanie had been brainwashed. They bought Hydra's bull and seeing Stephanie fighting her way across the strategy room floor, decked out in her full Lady Liberty gear, and freeing Zola had merely cemented the belief they already held. They weren't fool enough to voice their opinion where Bucky could hear it but word had gotten to him. He didn't know how many of the men they'd brought with them had bought the idea that Lady Liberty had turned traitor, and similarly had no idea what they'd do if they found her before he did.

The shrill sound of electronic feedback screeched through the hallway from an intercom overhead and then Bucky heard the metallic sound of Schmidt speaking.

"Greetings, Captain," the man said, his voice sounding strangely calm given the circumstances. "I have prepared a gift for you." Bucky felt his blood run cold at the words. He saw Carter give him an almost frantic look and he started moving faster, ripping doors off their hinges in his haste to find his girl but every room he looked into was empty.

On the intercom, Schmidt was still speaking. "Let it never be said I was not a good host."

There was the sound of movement and something clicking.

 

And then all Bucky could hear was Stephanie.

 

Screaming.

 

***

The man with the red skull released her from the chair and ordered her to follow him. She obeyed and was taken to a large room with a raised platform at one end with a desk on it. Behind the desk was a tall window that dominated the wall, offering a view of distant, snowcapped mountains. The man with the red skull led her to the platform and had her stand near the desk. From there she could see to the far end of the room where double doors opened into a corridor.

She wasn't sure how long they stood there before she heard shouting and men in black uniforms rushed in, slamming the doors shut and barricading them. Almost as soon as they did the doors rattled, bowing inward before bouncing back again.

"Ah," the man with the red skull said, unconcerned. "Just in time."

The doors burst open, throwing several of the soldiers backwards. A group dressed in brown uniforms swarmed in and the room fell into a free for all.  

She glanced at the man beside her but he gave her no orders so she turned back to watch the fighting.  

A second group ran in, also in the brown uniforms. Well, most of them anyway. One of them wore a strange costume that looked oddly similar to the one she wore. He had dark hair and carried a shield. His face was ashen and his eyes had an almost crazed look in them. She saw him stop dead, as if there wasn't a fight going on around him, and scan the room. When his eyes found her he sagged and swayed in a way that made her wonder if he was ill.  

"Oh, thank God," she heard him whisper and then he focused on the man next to her. "I'm going to kill you," he snarled. The hatred in his voice was deep, and so raw she wondered what it was the red skull man could possibly have done to inspire it.

The man with the red skull smiled and turned to her. "Kill him," he said, finally giving her an order "You have ten minutes." With that he turned and strode from the room, leaving her to wonder if he'd stayed simply to see the dark-haired man's face though, for what purpose, she couldn't say.

She turned to face the room, and saw the dark-haired man's eyes locked on her.

_Bucky._

She frowned, wondering where that word had come from. It felt like she should know what it meant but she had no context for it.

The group that had come in with the man scattered into the room. They attacked those in front of them, clearing a path for the man in the costume to walk straight through the room without impediment. He stopped on the bottom step of the platform, his eyes searching hers.

"Are you all right, Sweetheart?" he sounded genuinely concerned and she wondered why he should care about her wellbeing. She also wondered why it mattered to her so much that he did.

"What's Bucky?" The words slipped out unbidden from a dry throat, her voice hoarse and cracked. She had no idea why she'd even thought to ask. Why would she assume her enemy, who she'd only just met, would know or care enough to tell her?

He smiled, his entire face lighting up and she felt something inside her chest twist at the sight. "I am," he said, putting one foot on the next stair. "I'm Bucky."

She had zero reason to trust him, let alone believe him...but she did.

"Oh," she said, her spirits falling. "I'm afraid I have to kill you, Bucky."

"Are you?" he asked, his voice compassionate. "Afraid?"

She hesitated. "Yes," she said finally and then, before that conversation could go any further, she pulled her gun from the holster at her thigh and fired at him.

He blocked the shot with ease, as she'd known he would, his shield already part way up and in place. She continued firing until the weapon was empty and then tossed it aside and pulled a switchblade from a sheath on her leg. She moved down the stairs to meet him, slashing half-heartedly at his arm only to have him block it.  

"I won't fight you," he said, backing away.

"Then you'll die," she said shortly, advancing on him.

_"Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes of the 107th at your service."_

She froze as his voice floated through her mind, fear, pride and resignation in his tone all at once.

"James?" she asked in confusion and he nodded, his eyes lighting up once again. She liked when his eyes looked like that, she thought. She wanted to see them do it again.

"Yes, James Buchanan Barnes. Bucky for short."

_"Language."_

His voice in her head again, exasperated.

_"Marry me, before I go."_

Desperate. Intense.

"No," she said. "You are nothing to me."

Nothing but her mission.

She went after him again and, again, he merely defended, warding off her blows and refusing to return any of his own. She drove him up the stairs and across the platform. She used her right arm for the most part, the left stiff and painful to move. She could feel tight bandages on it, restricting her movement.

"You look better than the last time I saw you," he said as she shoved him against the desk, shaking her head as the scene wavered and became a different desk, another room and a far different look in his eyes. "I'm glad."

 _Your audience contains what was left of the 107th."_ A woman's voice in her head this time, the words bringing so intense a wave of grief she faltered. Pain lanced through her mind and she put a hand to her temple, legs buckling slightly before she regained her balance. She expected him to take advantage but he held still and waited for her.

 _"The name does sound familiar."_ A man's voice, but not Bucky's. A feeling of despair, so intense it threatened to swallow her whole.

She charged toward him desperate to shut up the voices in her mind. He spun away from her and she leapt onto the desk, barely pausing before pushing off and flying over top of him. She landed behind him, dropping into a low crouch. She braced her hands on the floor and swept one leg out, knocking his feet out from under him.

He landed on his back and she leapt up, moving to straddle his chest just as he pushed up on his elbows. She pulled her backup gun from the holster at the small of her back, gripped it in both hands and pressed it into the hollow of his throat.  

_And suddenly she was straddling him but it was on a bed; her hand holding not a gun but a set of dog tags he was wearing. She pulled on them and he pushed up higher on his elbows as she braced her free hand on the mattress and leaned down to kiss him..._

Her eyes widened and she shook her head, struggling to separate the image in her mind from the reality before her.

The loudspeaker crackled to life in the corner of the room.

**_"Longing."_ **

She expected Bucky to try and buck her off.

**_"Rusted."_ **

Instead he reached a hand up to gently cup her face, one thumb lightly brushing away the tears openly streaming from her eyes.   

She hadn't realized she was crying.

He moved, wrapping one hand around the barrel of the gun and moving it out a few inches as he sat up. He then proceeded to let go of the gun and brace both hands on the ground, leaning back on them slightly and letting her shove the gun back up under his jaw again.

**_"Seventeen."_ **

She should have already shot him.

She couldn't bring herself to release the safety.  

**_"Daybreak."_ **

_I'm sorry,_ the same man's voice.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

Part of her was screaming to finish her mission.

A larger part would rather die herself than hurt him.

If she didn't do something soon she would run out of time, and they would choose for her.

**_"Furnace."_ **

She shut her eyes for just a second and allowed herself to take a deep breath and let it out slowly.

Then she opened her eyes, and made her decision.

 

A gunshot rang out.

 

 


	41. Chapter 41

**_"Nine."_ **

Stephanie blinked in surprise and looked down to where wetness was beginning to seep through her jacket, oozing from a moderately deep gash running along her side. A searing pain started to spread out from the cut and she grimaced. She'd dropped her gun in surprise at the shot and Bucky had grabbed it and shoved it, sending it sliding under the desk.

He grabbed her face suddenly between his hands and turned her head to look at him. "What the hell," he asked, "was that?"

Stephanie looked over his shoulder and saw a dark-haired woman, gun clutched in both hands, her eyes wide and her face pale.

Carter, the name came hazily. Peggy Carter.

"I'm so sorry," Peggy said, coming forward to kneel beside Bucky. "It's just a graze. I didn't know how else to stop you. You were going to--"

"Shoot yourself," Bucky growled. "What the hell? Since when has that ever been an option?"

"Since you were going to let me shoot you!" Stephanie challenged and he gave her an incredulous look.

"You weren't going to shoot me!"

"You didn't know that," Stephanie insisted.

"You still had the safety on!" he retorted. "I'm pretty sure I did know! I--" His eyes went wide and zeroed in on her face. "Steph?" he whispered, voice almost pleading.

"Well it's not the damn Fist of Hydra," Stephanie muttered. Her memories were hazy and hard to grab but she seemed to vaguely remember getting her mind back a few other times, always after a physical trauma of some sort. Apparently getting grazed by a bullet counted.

**_"Benign."_ **

More memory crashed back in and she sucked in a sharp breath as she recognized the words being spoken over the loudspeaker. She went to cover her ears with her hands only to realize, to her horror, she physically couldn't do it. She turned her eyes to Bucky, opening her mouth to tell him, and no words came out. She tried again and the words caught in her throat as if they were being physically held back.

Despair settled over her. Schmidt wouldn't want his new toy resisting him so easily. Of course he would add in programming that would prevent her from resisting him, or asking for help from anyone who could.

**_"One."_ **

""You did the right thing," she told Carter, resigned. The other woman didn't seem to have noticed the loudspeaker and Bucky was staring into her eyes with all the wonder of a child on Christmas who'd just received the one thing they had dearly wanted but never believed they would have. Knowing she only had seconds, she leaned forward and pressed her forehead against his, the contact briefly filling a deep, gaping hole in her heart. She gave a sound that was nearly a sob and said, "You need to let me go." Chasing after her the way he'd been doing, putting himself at risk...it was going to get him hurt. _She_ was going to get him hurt.

"How can I?" Bucky whispered.  "I just got you back."

"No," Stephanie said gently, taking his face in her hands. "You didn't."

**_"Homecoming."_ **

"What did he say?" Peggy asked, frowning toward the loudspeaker.

"What did who say?" Bucky replied, his focus still solely on his wife.

Stephanie felt her gut clench in fear. She dragged him close and kissed him with all the desperation and despair of a drowning woman who knew no help would be coming. She kissed him with the knowledge it might well be the final time.

She kissed him as if she were losing him.

Then, before her willpower gave out, she pulled free, scrambled to her feet and stepped back several feet from them both. Bucky looked up at her in confusion and she forced herself to turn her attention to Peggy.

"Next time," she ordered, "don't you dare miss."

Peggy frowned, "What?"

Stephanie forced herself to smile at her husband, even as she backed away, even as her fingers curled into fists, nails digging into her right palm until it hurt.

Bucky scrambled to his feet and she shook her head, stopping him. She was still crying and didn't care, just kept her eyes locked with his, wanting him to be the last thing she saw before Schmidt took her away again.

Bucky shook his head and then walked forward, reaching out for her.

Physically unable to stop herself, Stephanie reached out to lightly brush a wayward lock of hair off his forehead. She gripped his shoulders and leaned forward to press her lips gently against his forehead before letting him go and stepping back. "I love you, James Buchanan Barnes," she said softly and saw his eyes widen in recognition and horror. "Good-bye."

****

**_"Freight Car."_ **

 


	42. Chapter 42

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ends on a kinda cliffhanger but not really. Technically, it's a cliffhanger but it's a canon moment from the movie so, if you've seen the movie, (which I'm assuming you all have or you wouldn't be here) then you'll know how it plays out. So it's kinda more a cliffhanger for the characters. :D I changed the story to a series - I have three sequels planned and a oneshot/short story planned so feel free to subscribe if you want to read more once this one is done. The next story will be a FemBucky that will be VERY different from this story (it'd just be boring otherwise). The third will be a multiverse story that will see our FemBucky and FemSteve meet up and will then do my own riff on the first Avengers movie - multiverse style! :D

She straightened; her face expressionless. "Ready to comply."

The dark-haired man - _Bucky,_ a voice in her head informed her _; his name is Bucky_ \- paled. "What?"

Loud swearing broke out, coming from a woman - _Peggy,_ the same voice said patiently _. Her name is Peggy and she's your friend_ \- standing nearby. "Those words," the woman, Peggy? said, "They must have been some sort of trigger for giving her new orders. It put her--"

"Back under his control," the man -- Bucky, was that his name? said with a snarl, "and she couldn't tell us."

"Of course not," the woman/Peggy said, "it wouldn't make for a very good trigger if she could stop it."

 ** _"You will report to the Valkyrie at once,"_** the voice ordered. **_"Kill anyone who gets in the way."_**

The voice in her head was still there, telling her these people were her friends and she needed to stay with them, but the need to obey overwhelmed it. She had her mission. Everything, and everyone, else was irrelevant.

She turned her back on the two and the voice quieted, leaving an odd sensation of emptiness behind. She spotted her primary gun on the floor and retrieved it, sliding it into the holster at her hip. She retrieved her switchblade next, replacing it in her thigh holster. She saw no sign of her backup weapon but didn't waste time looking for it.

It was only as she headed off the platform that it occurred to her she'd given her back to two enemies.  

Why had she done that and, what's more, why hadn't they taken advantage?

 _Because they aren't your enemies,_ the voice returned, insistent.

She ignored it.

The door into the hall was in front of her. Just before she reached it, a man with a strange hat and a mustache got in her way as if to block her. _Dugan. A friend - NO,_ a new voice, still her own but harder, emotionless. _He is in your way. Fulfill your mission._ The man/Dugan/her enemy opened his mouth to speak but she never gave him a chance. She snapped an elbow into his face and followed it by pivoting on one foot to send a boot into his chest. He flew backward and hit the wall with a hard thump before slumping to the ground. The voice in her head that insisted he was a friend wailed while the other felt satisfaction at fulfilling mission parameters.

The dark-haired man/ _Bucky_ , rushed past her to kneel beside him, along with the woman, _Peggy/the enemy_.

The dark-haired man was partly in her way. He and the woman had pulled the man with the mustache up to sit against the wall and were talking to him. Bucky? was kneeling with one leg and his back blocking a portion of the doorway.

 _He's in your way,_ the dispassionate voice stated. _Kill him._

 _No,_ the other voice broke in. _Leave him alone._

She grimaced and put a hand to her head, swaying fractionally as a wave of dizziness washed over her. Her head was killing her, like someone was stabbing her in the temple with an ice pick. The voices were demanding, pulling her in opposite directions.

She felt as if she were fracturing in two.

She stepped over the dark-haired man's outstretched leg. Her hand reached out and grabbed his shoulder, as if she were trying to use him to physically stop her body from taking her out. She felt his hand grab hers for an instant, and then she was pulling free and striding past him out into the corridor.

The voice that insisted the dark-haired man was her friend screamed for her to go back.

The other voice demanded she complete her mission.

She broke into a run, heading toward the hanger.

The command must have gone out to more than just her as she was soon swallowed in a swarm of soldiers dressed in black heading in the same direction. She found herself trailing, still fighting the two voices in her head that demanding she go back and keep moving forward simultaneously. It felt like they were both in control of her body and, if that were so, then she had no idea where it left her.

She rounded a corner, lagging well behind the last of the soldiers in black. As the closest man in front of her passed a certain area he reached out and slapped at a large panel set in the wall. Gears began to grind and thick metal doors started to rumble across the corridor, blocking it off. She managed to slip through and ignored the way the one voice was practically sobbing inside her head, crying out for the dark-haired man. The pain radiating from that voice was worse than anything she'd ever felt, like someone had stabbed her in the gut and then twisted the knife.

 _Emotions are a weakness,_ the other voice stated simply. _Attachments irrelevant. He is your enemy. He only matters if he gets in your way._

Something heavy and metallic slammed into the doors behind her and the gears shrieked and screamed in protest as they struggled to complete their task.

She stumbled to a stop and turned to see a shield wedged between the doors, holding them open. Bucky slid through and turned his back on her to knock the shield loose. The doors slammed shut behind him, separating him from his friends and removing any avenue of escape.

He'd come after her.

One voice shrieked with joy, the other with anger.

"You're on the wrong side," she said. She couldn't tell which emotion was in her voice, joy or anger.

Perhaps it was both.  

"Not possible," he replied. "You're here."

She tilted her head, studying him, and then held out her arms to him.

He dropped his shield and walked into them without a moment of hesitation and it wasn't until she touched him and buried her face in his neck that she understood which voice had been telling the truth. She curled against him, wrapping one arm around his back and winding the other behind his head to slide her fingers through his hair. She inhaled a sharp mix of aftershave, leather and gunpowder, and the colder voice, the one still demanding she kill him on the spot, finally shut up.

Both his arms went around her easily and she felt the point of his chin resting on the top of her head. He didn't say anything, just stood and embraced her while she held onto him the way one might hang onto a rock when caught in the midst of a raging river.

"My head feels like it's splitting in half," she managed to whisper, finally, against his neck. She sighed and shifted to press her face even closer into the juncture between his neck and shoulder. "I'm tired."

"I know you are, Darling," she heard him respond. "It's almost over. I swear it."

She believed him.

_He's the enemy._

The voice was back, and getting stronger again, demanding she obey her mission parameters. She pulled away and grabbed the front of his costume with both hands before leaning to press her forehead against his. "I don't want to fight you."

It was one of the few things she knew for sure. She didn't truly know who he was but she knew she didn't want to hurt him, and she knew that she missed him so badly it was causing a physical ache inside her soul.

"Then don't." He freed one of her hands to interlace his fingers with hers before raising their joined hands to press a kiss to the back of her knuckles.  

_Fulfill your mission._

"I have to go." She paused, and then blurted, "come with me."

"I'm with you to the end of the line," he said. "And whatever comes after."

Something like relief flooded her and she surprised herself by leaning forward to kiss him quickly on the lips. Then, before the other voice could regain control, she pulled free and started moving again.

He grabbed his shield and fell in with her, by her side but not in her way.

Together, they headed toward the hanger while, inside her mind, both voices were silent.

For the moment.

***

They broke into the hanger a few minutes later. It was filled with soldiers running in every direction. She spotted the soldiers she'd been following earlier, already scrambling up a ladder into the belly of a massive plane at the other end of the hanger.

"Where's that going?" Bucky asked.

"I don't know." She frowned as something occurred to her and then said, "give me your shield and put your hands behind your back."

He obeyed and she slid the straps of the shield over her left arm and then grabbed his sleeves at his wrists as if she were holding the bar of cuffs. She nudged him forward into the hanger, keeping close to him as she did. Several soldiers looked her way but dismissed her almost immediately, assuming she was taking her prisoner to the plane, which she was.

A massive explosion rocked the hanger.

A shockwave of energy and debris slammed into her, knocking her down and sending her sliding across the floor along with other soldiers in a pile of tangled bodies, dropped gear and equipment.

She managed to get to her feet in time to see soldiers dressed in brown pouring from a hole in the wall of the hanger. She cast about and caught sight of Bucky pulling himself to his feet.

He turned and caught her eye, his movements loose and without pain. There was a mass of soldiers between the two of them, cutting them off from one another. She bit her lip and looked toward the plane, closer to her than to him.

 _Go to the plane,_ the flat voice ordered. _Complete your mission._

 _You have to go,_ the other voice added, surprisingly in agreement. _It's important. He's safer where he is._

She nodded and then, in one move, slid his shield off her arm and threw it toward him, over the heads of the soldiers. She saw him catch it and then she whirled and headed toward the plane. She heard him shout behind her but didn't react.

She had to go, and he had to stay.

Part of her accepted it without complaint.

The other part sat quietly and watched her heart break.

She reached a ladder leading into the plane and climbed up awkwardly, her left arm stiff from the bandages and still in enough pain that it hurt to lift. She made it inside and two soldiers pulled the ladder up after her.

Under her feet, she heard the rumble of the plane's engines and the vibration as it started to move.

One of the soldiers told her to go to the bridge and she obeyed, following the way he indicated. The man with the red skull was on the bridge, sitting in the captain's chair with his eyes on the windshield. Through it she could see a square of light rapidly approaching as the plane raced down the runway.

 _Mission completed,_ the flat voice told her.

 _This is important,_ the other voice informed her but neither it, nor she, seemed to understand why.

"Welcome back, Lady," the man said without looking at her. "I thought you might wish to be present to see the world changed. I may even let you give the order yourself. It would be quite the irony, yes?"

He didn't seem to care about a response so she didn't give one. Instead she focused on an imaginary spot on the other side of the room. The pain in her shoulder was starting to increase for some reason and she could still feel the slow throb of pain in her side. She could also feel blood seeping out but it wasn't fast enough or in a great enough quantity to be serious.  

The man with the red skull in the chair hissed suddenly and she saw his attention caught on a viewer down on his other side. She couldn't see whatever it was but, after a few minutes, the man settled down again and lost interest.

The plane shot out of the square of light and she saw snowcapped mountains that they rose swiftly above, soon leaving the facility behind.

Something inside her fell and her vision blurred as they left the hanger, and Bucky behind.

Bucky.

She'd left Bucky behind. She swallowed past a heavy rock in her throat, put her hands behind her back in an at ease position and pinched the flesh between her fingers with her other hand, the sharp pain driving the tears back.

A few minutes later the faint sound of a commotion caught her attention. The man with the red skull pushed a button on his console next to him and then swore.

"The man is like a cockroach," he muttered, "and you have now failed again to kill him."

Her heart jolted and she straightened. Was he talking about Bucky?

"Go," she was ordered. "Try not to fail again."

She nodded and almost ran from the bridge, heading to the hanger bay on the bottom of the ship. There was a long row of small planes there with names of American cities written on them, but she didn't know the purpose of them.

She caught sight of Bucky, in the process of knocking out a soldier, and her heart leapt in her chest. Forms in black uniforms were scattered on the floor and she was impressed he'd managed to take so many out so quickly. She saw him turn to take out another soldier, and jumped in surprise as a black clad soldier he'd missed stepped up close to her, aiming a gun at Bucky's back.

Without hesitation, she grabbed the soldier's arm and broke it. She followed it up with an elbow to the rib cage and a blow straight to the fact that threw him back twenty feet to crash against one of the smaller planes where he then fell to the deck in an unmoving heap.

When she turned back, Bucky was directly in front of her.

"Hey, Darling," he said, something like adoration in his eyes. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulled her close, and kissed her.

 _Kill him_ , the flat voice ordered.

 _Shut up_ , the other voice commanded.

The two voices went to war, and she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed closer to him even as she casually considered gutting him. It wouldn't be hard. She had more than a dozen weapons on her and he was at her mercy, one arm around her waist, the other holding his shield uselessly at his side. Hell, she didn't even have to use any of them. She had a metal arm, all it would take was cupping the back of his head and...

She shuddered, hard enough that he pulled back and gave her a concerned look. "What is it?"

"I'm supposed to kill you," she said. She paused as he took the opportunity to kiss her again and then continued with, "not..." another kiss, "this."

He seemed entirely unconcerned, simply moving in to kiss her again, his arm tightening around her waist.

His shield clattered to the deck and he put a hand on the side of her face. The action triggered a memory, the feel of something cold but filled with lights fitting there instead of his hand. He moved to kiss her jaw and she said, "If I don't kill you they'll hurt me again."

That got his attention and he pulled back to study her. "Those words they were saying? They hurt you?"

"No." She put a hand on his arm where it was around her waist and focused somewhere past him. "Those are for mission commands. A chair. It does...something." The memories were hazy, unclear and she pressed her forehead against his as the pain in her temple increased. "It erases..."

"What does that mean?" he asked, his tone probing.

"I don't know," she admitted through gritted teeth. Her voice lowered to a near whisper. "It hurts..."

Her eyes shifted to his finally and, then, before she thought about it too much, she surged forward and kissed him on her own, completely ignoring the voice telling her to kill him. It faded and the other voice grew stronger, melding with her mind until it wasn't another voice but _her_ voice and _her_ desires.

She trailed an arm along his forearm and up to the nape of his neck. His hair brushed the tips of her fingers and it was soft and felt like silk and _she'd always loved his hair. Whenever there was a program on the radio they both loved they would meet each week to listen to it together. She would curl up on the couch and he would sit on the floor with his back against it so she could play with his hair as they listened. Eventually she would start massaging his scalp for him, which would usually end up with him dropping his head back with a groan to swear his undying love._

She pulled away from him and he gave her a look that could only be described as unwavering devotion.

"To the end of the line?" she asked him.

"And whatever lays beyond," he swore.

She nodded, and then felt her eyes widen as she spotted movement over his shoulder.

He saw her reaction and whirled, just in time to see two soldiers he'd missed heading toward the small planes. More appeared, swarming down nearby ladders and she realized Bucky hadn't, in fact, taken all of them out in an insanely short period of time. The main part simply hadn't all been there.

"You're injured," Bucky told her. "Let me handle it."

He grabbed his shield and left and she stood uncertainly, watching.

One of the soldiers made it to a plane but, before he could get in, Bucky reached the consoles next to it. The doors opened and the plane fell away, spinning out of control as it fell. The man who'd been trying to board it managed to hang onto something for a few seconds before the force of the wind sucked him out. He fell away, screaming and she jerked, physically taking a step backward as an image assailed her.

_The edge of a mountain, falling, pain scorching through her side, Bucky overhead, screaming her name and then he was gone and she was still falling, alone._

She staggered, grabbing the railing with her right hand to steady herself.

Bucky was on top of another plane, smashing at the cockpit window with his shield. A soldier appeared out of nowhere, jumping on his back and she saw Bucky's shield spin away, hitting the ground several feet away from him.

She saw Bucky turn to fight the man...just as the doors opened beneath the plane and it fell out, taking Bucky with it.

It happened so fast her mind didn't register it at first.

He was there.

And then he wasn't.

"Bucky?" she whispered. Her knees sagged and she fought to lock them back in place. "Bucky?"

She managed to get back up, just as another of the soldiers approached her. There were at least twenty left. The one coming toward her was carrying Bucky's shield and her eyes locked onto it, fixated.

"Get out of my way," the man snapped, stopping in front of her.

Something inside her cracked and the woman who raised her eyes to meet his was neither entirely the soldier nor entirely Stephanie Barnes.

She was something in between...and she was _pissed._

The man was probably dead five minutes before he realized it. The shield clattered to the ground, face down and she stomped on the edge, sending it snapping up into her hand and slid it onto her arm. With her other hand, she pulled a blade from a holster...and then she went to work.

Hydra never stood a chance.

 

 


	43. Chapter 43

In the end, Stephanie cleared out the entire ship.

Hydra kept coming at her, and she kept putting them down. The first wave was the easiest. Whether they simply didn't realize she was back in control, thought she was confused, or some combination of the two she didn't know.

It worked in her favor either way.

They ran right at her. She sent the shield at them with a viciousness completely unlike her but very much in line with the monster Schmidt had turned her into, and watched with at least some satisfaction as it carved a path right through the oncoming soldiers.

The path lined up with the fissures currently blistering their way through her heart and soul.

She'd barely survived when she'd _thought_ Bucky was dead.

She wasn't going to survive at all now that she _knew_ it.

She couldn't, not now, not with her emotions back in full force when she hadn't felt them in true depth for so long. Not when her mind still felt fractured; her memories still scattered and chaotic. Not when the guilt and horror of everything she'd been forced to do while under Schmidt's control was screaming at her.

Not when she had a bone deep terror of Schmidt retaking control when she knew Bucky was the only one who had any hope of reaching her, or stopping her.

He wasn't just the other half of her soul anymore. He was her surety, the only thing keeping her grounded in the face of what she'd been forced to do, and could still be forced to do.

She couldn't make it without him.

 

She didn't _want_ to make it without him.

 

Part of her wanted to give into the waves of grief cresting over her, just curl into a ball and forget about everything.

Only a part of her though.

The rest couldn't accept the idea that doing so would mean allowing Hydra, the organization that killed her husband, to win.

In front of her, the remaining soldiers had finally wised up and taken cover.

It didn't save them.

The gun in her holster was empty and she didn't have any ammunition on her but, fortunately, the bodies sprawled about her had plenty of weapons and ammunition.

It wasn't long before the only one left standing on the ship was her.

And one other.

***

The bridge appeared empty.

Stephanie wasn't stupid enough to believe it really was.

She stood still, listening. Her shoulder felt like it was on fire, pain radiating out in waves. She'd paid little attention to it during the fight below and was paying the price for it.

She didn't care.

It was nothing compared to the pain of Bucky not being there. She'd taken a few hits in her battle, some of which she could feel bleeding even then. The worst wound, however, was one no one could see. That was the gaping hole inside where Bucky had been, and she was slowly bleeding out from it. It might not be a physical wound but the end would be the same.

She didn't cry.

If she did, she would never stop.

A footstep, and she turned as Schmidt moved out from behind a pillar, a weapon clutched in his hand.

"Longing," he said shortly and she sneered even as her heart jolted with fear.

"You have no idea." She threw the shield, the disc obliterating the weapon in his hand and knocking him back against the wall. It rebounded off a nearby pillar and came back to her, the straps sliding easily onto her arm. "You know," she said conversationally, walking up the steps to where Schmidt was getting back to his feet. "You really should have made that list shorter, because I'm going to kill you before you get all the way through it."

"We shall see, Lady Liberty," he said, standing up. "I shall enjoy watching you give the orders to release the bombs yourself."

"Going to be a bit hard seeing as how all your pilots are dead." She swung, and he blocked her only to have to duck himself as she nearly took his head off with the shield. Her shoulder screamed at her but she pushed it aside. Bucky was gone and Schmidt was the bastard responsible.

Like hell she was letting him get away with it.

The fight was brutal, neither of them holding back. Schmidt had no need to and Stephanie had nothing left to lose. He continued trying to recite the code words but she gave him little chance, driving him back at every turn, getting up almost instantly every time he put her down. She could feel blood trickling down her side from open wounds, and the pain and stiffness in her shoulder soon grew so bad she could hardly move it.

Still she refused to stay down and the longer the fight dragged on the angrier Schmidt got.

They were fighting near the chair at the center of the room when the ship vibrated under their feet. It startled Stephanie for just a second, throwing her off long enough to allow Schmidt to grab her and throw her. In his anger, he didn't pay attention to the direction and she slammed right into the piloting console. Sparks burst and she felt the plane bank sharply, angling downward.

"Oops," she said, pushing up with a smirk. "I think I broke your plane."

The entire ship banked sharply and she was thrown into the air as gravity suddenly no longer made sense. She was forced to grab onto a nearby pillar and hold on as best she could. She watched as Schmidt did the same, crawling along slowly until he reached the console and engaged the autopilot. The ship leveled out and he turned to send a glare of pure hatred in her direction.

"Furnace. I will have you personally drop the bombs. Then I will have you murder everyone you care about one by one."

Stephanie flung her shield directly at him. It hit him square in the chest and knocked him back into a large tower behind him. It sparked and blue waves of energy radiated out.

"What have you done?" Schmidt cried out, scrambling to his feet. He reached out and Stephanie saw him pick up a glowing, blue cube from where it was lying haphazardly against the console.

Schmidt frowned and looked closer as if transfixed. The cube, in turn, began to glow brighter and brighter until, suddenly, it sent out a column of blue light upward. Stephanie jerked back in surprise as overhead, the top of the plane seemed to open, into a view of what looked like space.

Schmidt started to dissolve. It started with his hand, the skin literally flaking off and spread quickly to the rest of him. He started screaming though Stephanie wasn't sure if it was from pain or horror or both. There was a bright burst of light and she looked away covering her eyes.

When she looked back, Schmidt was gone and the ceiling of the plane was back as if it had never been missing. The cube was still there, glowing brightly, but before she could decide what to do about it the thing proceeded to burn through the deck, as well as the ones below it until it fell out of the plane and vanished.

Deciding the thing was well above her pay grade, Stephanie put it out of mind and headed to the captain's seat. With her adrenaline fading she was rapidly beginning to feel worse, the pain, both emotional and physical, nearly debilitating and her stomach roiling with nausea. She was sweating and took a second to wipe it out of her eyes as she settled into the chair. Her hair was an absolute mess, hopelessly tangled and stiff with sweat and grime and she felt as if she hadn't showered in a week.

She spun the chair around to face the front and, yep, she had most definitely broken the plane. A look to one of the other consoles showed they were heading directly toward New York. Her mind went to the planes in the hanger, all loaded with bombs. If they went off when the plane invariably ran out of fuel and crashed the resulting explosion would be catastrophic.

Reaching out with her right hand, Stephanie flipped on the communications console and tuned it to one of the SSR's frequencies.  

"Come in, this is..." she faltered, her mind running through all the things she'd done while under Hydra's control. She'd hurt people, people she cared about deeply. "Come in," she repeated, finally, leaving off any identifier at all. "Do you read me?"

The response was almost immediate. " _Stephanie! Are you alright?_ "

"Peggy," Stephanie said, her voice catching in relief to have found someone. "Schmidt's dead. I'm so sorry," she blurted. "Peggy, I'm so--"

 _"It wasn't your fault,"_ Peggy cut in, her voice firm. _"It wasn't you, Stephanie."_

Stephanie swallowed. "Is Dum Dum okay?"

 _"He's fine,"_ came the response and Stephanie sagged in relief. " _He doesn't blame you either. If he were here he'd tell you that himself. Where are you? What are your coordinates?"_

Stephanie focused out the windshield, watching the clouds rush by. Part of the glass was broken and a brisk breeze was blowing in, cooling her off and refreshing her a little.

"Bucky's gone," she said flatly, unable to say the word dead. She could think it but she couldn't say it because there was some part of her that still didn't believe it. Voicing it would give it the weight of reality, and she simply couldn't do that to him. Her voice trembled as she spoke and tears leaked out on their own accord, running down her face despite how hard she fought to keep them back.

 _"Stephanie,"_ Peggy's voice answered, tone lost in the static. _"I'm so sorry."_

"Me too," Stephanie said dully. Her voice broke on the last word and she took a second to focus on breathing. She couldn't break down just yet. She still had work to do. "The plane is damaged, Peggy. I can't control it."

_"That's fine. I can give you a landing site. We can try to force it down."_

"It's moving too fast," Stephanie insisted, "and it's going to New York."

Bucky loved New York and, on that thought, a harsh sob escaped her before she gritted her teeth and held the rest back through sheer willpower. "I have to put it in the water."

Bucky was in the water.

She wanted to be where Bucky was.  

" _Please don't do this,"_ Peggy said. _"We have time. We can work it out."_

Peggy didn't understand. Stephanie didn't _want_ to work it out. There was nothing left for her. Schmidt had seen to that. She'd been an experiment from the beginning, and she'd been captured and used against her own people. They would never let her lead again. She'd be lucky if they even kept her in the SSR. At best, they'd send her back to the stage show or a laboratory somewhere. At worst? They'd ship her home to sit in an empty apartment with only her own nightmares and crumbling sanity for comfort.

In either scenario, she wouldn't have Bucky.

When she hadn't had her health, when she hadn't had her parents, when she hadn't had money or prospects, when she'd had _nothing_ ; she'd had Bucky.

 

Now, she simply had nothing.

 

"I'm in the middle of nowhere right now," she said, and felt a sense of calm settle over her. Bucky had promised it was nearly over, and he'd been right. She just had to hold on a little longer. "If I wait a lot of people are going to die." That was the truth at least. She could see it on the radar. "Peggy," she said carefully. 'This is my choice."

She took a deep breath and reached to grab Bucky's dog tags, only to realize that, of course, they weren't there. With more confidence than she was feeling, she wrapped her hands more securely around the controls, and pushed them down.

The plane banked and she felt a twist in her stomach as the plane started to dive.

"Peggy," she said, unsure of what to even say. There was so much she needed to say, and no time at all with which to say it.

 _"I'm here."_ Her friend's voice sounded shaky and Stephanie felt a stab of guilt over the pain she knew she was causing the other woman. She added it to the growing pile of guilt she now carried courtesy of Schmidt and Hydra.

She opened her mouth to say...something, and froze as she heard a footfall behind her.

Her stomach twisted. She was exhausted. If she'd missed a solider she wasn't sure she could fight him off long enough to crash the plane, not as beat up as she was now.

She risked a look over her shoulder, and promptly burst into tears.

 _"Stephanie?"_ Peggy's voice asked. _"Stephanie, what's wrong?"_

"I have to go," Stephanie said, crying so hard the words came out garbled. "Peggy, tell the others I'm sorry."

_"What? Stephanie no. You don't have to do this alone."_

Stephanie felt the back of her seat vibrate as something heavy dropped against it and couldn't stop a watery laugh. "I'm not alone," she said. "Not anymore. Goodbye, Peggy. Thank you."

She slapped off the radio and grabbed the edge of the chair using it to pull herself up and out. The floor was slanted sharply but there wasn't a force in the world that could have stopped her from making it where she wanted to go.

Bucky grinned up at her from where he was slumped against the back of her chair, one arm wrapped around his torso. "Hey Darling," he said tiredly, "weren't planning to leave without me, were you?"

Stephanie made a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob and threw her leg over his to drop down and straddle his lap, face to face. She grabbed his face between her hands and kissed him once, twice, and then a third time. "You idiot," she said, crying so hard she could barely get the words out. "Schmidt was right. I married a damn cockroach."

He raised an eyebrow, amused even as he lifted a hand to brush the tears off the right side of her face. She grabbed his hand and turned it out so she could kiss his palm and then placed his hand back on her face and held it there. "I'll take that as a compliment, I think," he said dryly. He tried to shift his position only to grimace in pain.

Stephanie tried to pull his other hand away from his side but he resisted her. "How badly are you hurt?" she asked.

He snorted. "Does it matter?" His eyes searched hers. "I crashed a plane into the hanger."

Stephanie didn't answer. She moved his hand from her face to wrap around her waist and leaned forward to rest against his chest, head on his shoulder and one hand over his heart. His heartbeat, surprisingly, was perfectly steady under her palm despite their circumstances.

"Pretty sure I damaged the hanger bay controls," he continued. "There's no way to get any of the bays open to let those other planes out." He put a finger under her chin and gently angled her head up so he could he could look her in the eyes. "You didn't know that."

Stephanie pushed up to give him a lingering kiss. When she pulled away to meet his eyes the full weight of what he'd done hit her and she felt her eyes widen.

He'd been in a plane, a fully functioning one, outside, capable of going anywhere he'd wanted to go. She nudged his head with hers and kissed him again. "I told you to let me go," she whispered, pulling back to study him.

He put a hand on the side of her head, fingers tangled in her hair. "I _can't_ ," he whispered. "I _tried_ going on without you and I turned into someone else. You wouldn't have recognized him, might not even have liked him."

"I'll always love you," Stephanie said simply. "No matter who you turn into."

She sighed and returned to her previous position, head back on her shoulder and hand on his chest. "I'm sorry we're leaving everyone." There was still a war going on, still evil left to be fought but, then again, wasn't there always?

"They'll be fine," Bucky said confidently. "You know that."

Stephanie nodded. She did.

She felt the plane bank even more, the angle becoming steeper, and she stiffened instinctively. Bucky wrapped both arms around her and held her as the plane picked up speed.  

Bucky gently ran his fingers along her cheek, pushing some of her hair that had fallen over her face out of her eyes. "End of the line, huh?"

"Never thought it'd come so soon," Stephanie responded. She brushed her hand across his chest and reached up to kiss the underside of his jaw before allowing herself to go limp against him with a sigh.

"I thought it'd already come on the edge of a mountain," Bucky said. "This I can live with." He chuckled. "Or not, as the case may be."

She felt him cup the back of her head with one hand, and she looked up to see him lay his head against the seatback and close his eyes. She smiled, settled against him once more, and followed suit.

And, then, together, they waited.

 


	44. Chapter 44

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A giant thank you to all who came with me on this journey. I hope you enjoy the finale for this story and hope to see you in the sequels! :D

Stephanie woke up.

For a few seconds, she felt disoriented and convinced she was back home in her small, drafty apartment in Brooklyn. A burst of panic shot through her at the fear she'd overslept and would be late for work, only to realize Bucky would have shown up already to check on her.

 _Bucky_.

Memory crashed back in and, with a gasp, she lunged from the bed and stood up. This proved to be a mistake as black spots appeared before her eyes, multiplying rapidly, and a wave of dizziness had her staggering back to sit heavily on the bed again.

She propped her elbows on her knees and put her head in her hands, waiting for her body to catch up with the fact that she was no longer flat on her back. An odd sensation registered and she pulled away to frown at her left hand.

She could feel it. She stretched the arm out, studying the metal. Carefully she used her right hand to press lightly on it, rotating and twisting it as she did.

She could feel all of it. The doctor, the one who'd put the arm on her, had said something about pressure plates and her nerves being wired in but he'd said it would take time for them to grow down and give her full sensation. She ran her right hand slowly along the bicep of the arm, up to her shoulder, and felt her eyes widen at the sight of the smooth, unbroken skin surrounding the metal. There was some mild soreness but, strangely, it was at the joint where the arm attached to the metal plate set into her body and not where the metal attached to her flesh.

Now that she thought about it Stephanie realized that, aside from that soreness, she felt no pain at all. No aching in her legs and arms, no burning pain in her side. Nothing.

Cold raced through her. Just how long had she been asleep? She knew the serum would have sped up her recovery but her entire body had been falling apart in one way or another. It would have taken time to heal, serum or no serum.

She took a breath and assessed her surroundings. She was sitting on a standard military style cot, weak metal frame and a thin mattress. There was no pillow or blanket and she felt her stomach clench, removing them could be a sign the people who'd put her there were worried she'd use one or the other as a weapon.

The fact that they thought she might go for a weapon was a bad sign.

With a deep sense of foreboding, she examined the room. It was small, and empty aside from the cot, small sink and a strange metal contraption she assumed was supposed to be a toilet. It, and the bed and sink upon inspection, were all bolted to the floor and the bad feeling increased. There was a metal door set into the wall on the other side of the room, not nearly thick enough to hold her from the look of it but a good effort.

She swallowed past a rock in her throat and felt fear settle in her gut.

She was in a cell, again.

It couldn't be Hydra, she told herself. Schmidt was gone, his plane destroyed and the SSR had been swarming the final base the last time she'd seen them.

She swallowed past the giant rock suddenly lodged in her throat. It wasn't Hydra, she'd destroyed them, but that didn't mean it couldn't be someone just as bad, or worse.

_"If one head is cut off, two more shall take its place. Hail Hydra."_

Schmidt's words ran through her head, the memory faded but there, and she tensed, crossing her arms and shaking her head to try and dispel the image. She could remember everything, but really wished she couldn't.

She tried standing up again, slower this time, and was able to hold her ground. She was barefoot, the concrete floor cold under her feet. Another method to help control a potentially unruly prisoner and still another bad sign about the intentions of whoever had her. She was no longer wearing the mock Lady Liberty field costume, she noted, but was instead dressed in brown trousers and a black t-shirt with straps instead of sleeves that revealed her shoulders and had a scooped neck. It resembled the top of a tank suit that one might use for swimming but the fabric was different. The thought of someone having undressed her and put her in new clothing brought a flash of embarrassment and irritation.

She was getting tired of other people seeing her in her undergarments.

Having taken inventory of her body and the room she turned her attention back to that door. The last time she'd broken out of a cell it hadn't gone well for her.

Last time she hadn't had Bucky with her though.

A thought started to surface and she squashed it before it could fully form. Bucky was _fine._ They'd separated him from her but he was fine and she was going to find him and he'd be _fine_ and he'd know who she was because this wasn't damn Hydra and all she had to do was _find_ him and everything would be okay.

She took a deep breath and faced the door.

She had her mission.

Find James Barnes, and then get the hell out of here, wherever here was.

Since the door wasn't as good as the one in the Hydra base there was no reason for subterfuge to get it opened. She simply grabbed the doorknob with her left hand and snapped it off. She slid her fingers into the hole left by the missing knob, got a good grip, and ripped the entire thing right off its hinges.

It broke off the frame with a large crack that she imagined probably drew attention so she held onto the door as she stepped out. She found herself in a narrow hallway. It wasn't as dark or forbidding as the one in the Hydra facility but it brought back bad memories just the same and she struggled to stay in control as new memories flooded her mind, reminding her of just what had happened to her and what she'd done while in Hydra's control.

There were several other cells in the hall so she set the door against the wall and went to check them. All proved to be empty, no sign of Bucky. Images of where he might be, or what could be happening to him, ran through her mind and she clenched her teeth in anger. Like hell she was letting anyone hurt him.  

As she checked the final one she heard footsteps and figures dressed in black came around the corridor. The black clothing, so similar to what Hydra wore, had her gut clenching as did the sight of the guns several of them were holding. Stephanie ripped the door of the cell she'd been checking off and threw it at them.

The door spun through the air and slammed into the first few of them with a heavy thud, knocking them flat. She jumped over them and barreled straight into the men coming along behind them, bursting past and running. That had been her mistake the last time, she thought. She'd tried to fight her way out when she should have just run like hell.

She bolted down another hallway, and another after that. She stopped just long enough to steal shoes off a soldier that looked like they'd at least stay on her feet but didn't stop to get weapons or ammunition. She also didn't pause when she encountered people, just sped through the middle of them before they had a chance to react and kept going. She could hear shouting and footsteps behind her and from side corridors, but they had no chance of catching up. The corridor in front of her quickly became empty as people got the message of move, or be moved. A few times more men dressed in black appeared, springing from side halls and offices but, with her enhanced hearing, she heard them long before she saw them and easily evaded them.

She saw no sign of other areas that looked like they might contain cells and saw nothing resembling a medical ward. She rounded a corner, spotting a wall made entirely of glass and made a quick decision. She had no idea where Bucky was but she did know the place she was in was huge, and she had no chance of searching it all before they'd figure out a way to recapture her.

She couldn't help Bucky if she were a prisoner alongside him. She needed help, and weapons. Her best course of action would be to escape and call the SSR for help, hopefully the Howling Commandos if they were willing to trust her again. Then she'd find a weapon and come back and engage them, ensuring they didn't try to move Bucky before help could arrive.

The thought that Bucky might not be there in the first place crossed her mind and she shook her head, refusing to so much as acknowledge the way her vision briefly blurred.

Bucky _was_ there. He was there and he was fine and she was getting him _back_ because that was the only option she would accept.

Running footsteps were coming up the corridor behind her so she sprinted toward the glass, crossing her arms in front of face and launching herself forward. It was only as she hit the glass, feeling it shatter around her, that she might have wanted to check how high up she was before jumping.

She mentally added it to the list of things to never tell Bucky, along with the dummy grenade she hadn't known for sure was a dummy and pretty much all the specifics about his rescue from that Hydra base.

Luckily, it turned out she was only about two stories up. She hit the ground in a crouch, glass falling about her in a pile. She pushed up and saw she was standing in the middle of a wide street. Cars with designs she'd never seen were coming right at her, horns blaring, and she twisted and started running again. Out of her peripheral vision she could see the sidewalks packed with people and made the decision to stay in the street. She could dodge around, or over, cars far faster and easier than she could shove through dense crowds of people and the risk of injuring innocents would also be far less.

She felt a sense of relief as she ran. She'd feared she would find herself in the middle of nowhere and have to travel before she could find help.

She risked a glance over her shoulder and saw people pouring out of the building she'd jumped from. She cursed and ran faster, dodging a car with its horn blaring and running straight up the hood of another. She pushed off the hood, flipped midair and landed again on the street. The weather was reasonably warm, and the air pleasant so at least she wouldn't have to worry about freezing to death.

The men following her couldn't keep up and she left them behind. She spun around a corner, and sprinted across a large, open square. Feeling she'd put enough space between her and her pursuers she started to take stock of her surroundings, and felt her footsteps slowing until, finally, she came to a dead stop altogether.

It looked...it almost looked like she was in Times Square but it wasn't like any Times Square she had ever seen. There were moving pictures everywhere, dominating the sides of buildings and blinking from signs and storefronts. Words scrolled across some of them, faster than she could read, and all of it looked real enough to reach out and touch. The movies she remembered had been in black and white, featuring voiceovers and movements that were a little too fast, a little too fake to be really believed. These were nothing like that. Many of the pictures appeared to be advertising things, some using women wearing clothing that made her Lady Liberty stage costume looked like the height of modesty.

The sound of cars drew her attention and she turned her attention to watch, truly paying attention for the first time instead of simply looking to avoid being hit. None of the models were ones she recognized, sleek and curved instead of boxy and coming in colors she'd never seen on a car before.

There were people walking around her, most too caught up in their own lives to pay her any attention. There were men and women in the crowds, _both_ wearing pants, some of the women wearing outfits that her mother would have grounded her for even looking at, let alone wearing.

She crossed her arms nervously at she studied her surroundings. Where the hell was she? She saw a man walk by with a small device stuck to his ear, talking into it, and frowned in confusion.

What was going on? She'd never expected to wake up at all, and now not only had she but she seemed to have left her own world and come to one where her home, the place she thought she'd given her life to save, was completely alien to her.

"I like your arm," a small voice piped up and she jumped in surprise before looking down to see a small boy standing next to her. "I've never seen a metal one before."

"Thanks," she said.

The boy nodded. He looked to be about eight or nine with short dark hair and carrying a bookbag of some kind over his shoulder. He didn't really look like Bucky but her guy would be just the sort to walk up to a strange woman to compliment her on her metal arm and Stephanie felt a wave of affection and pain at not having him there.

She _missed_ him.

Having said what he'd come to say, the little boy waved and ran off to wherever his home was and Stephanie tried to pretend she wasn't jealous of the fact he _had_ somewhere to go. She tightened her grip on her arms and started walking, knowing she needed to get out of the open.

She turned onto a narrow street between several buildings, only to freeze partway down as several large black cars pulled up at the other end, blocking her path. Cursing the fact that she'd let the strange sights in the square distract her for what had clearly been too long, she turned, only to see more cars blocking the way she'd come. Around her the handful of people on the street began to disappear, sensing something was about to happen, rushing down alleys and into buildings.

Armed men started to pour out of the cars and Stephanie turned, planning to head down an alley on the other side of the street.

A blur caught her attention from the corner of her eye and she twisted to meet it, barely getting her arms up in time as a slender, red headed woman launched a flying kick right at her face. She managed to block it, grabbing the woman's ankle as she did and sending her flying back. The woman hit the ground in a low crouch in the middle of the street and came back to her feet as if she hadn't just been flung through the air like a rag doll.

She was dressed entirely in black, her outfit so skintight Stephanie wondered why she bothered wearing it at all.

She had little time to think about it as the woman was coming at her again. Stephanie was stronger but the other woman clearly knew it and fought accordingly, darting in to land a blow and then jumping back out of reach before Stephanie could grab her.

She could see the soldiers coming, from both ends of the street, weapons raised and moved to put a building at her back, refusing to let them surround her. They were soon spread out in a loose half circle in the street, blocking her against the building.

She wondered why they didn't just shoot her, and almost immediately fought back a stab of fear as she remembered Hydra hadn't shot her either, and why.

The thought threw her off for a second, not long enough for anyone but the most elite to even notice let alone taken advantage of.

It was a short list, and apparently included the redhead.

Stephanie was slammed back into the brick wall of the building behind her, the redhead giving her an almost feral grin. "You fight like Hydra."

Stephanie bristled at the insult. Her ire rose and suddenly she was done with this whole charade. She wanted her husband back, and she wanted him _now_.

"Yeah?" she challenged. "Well you fight like an asshole." She hooked her leg around the redhead's calf, grabbed the other woman's shoulders, and twisted. The move wrenched the other woman's leg out from under her, knocking her off balance. She immediately threw her arms around Stephanie's waist to try and control the fall but Stephanie had anticipated it and was already moving, pushing off the redhead's back and somersaulting into the air to land behind her.

Stephanie had her back against the wall again just as the other woman came got to her knees next to her, only to freeze as she found herself looking down the barrel of her own gun.

The weapon wasn't a familiar model to her but the basic principle was the same. Stephanie pulled the hammer back and rested a finger on the side of the trigger. She heard a dozen or more guns being cocked and tensed. "I assure you," she said loudly, "I can shoot her long before you can shoot me." It would also take a hell of a lot more bullets to put her down. Unless of course they just shot her in the head but she was fairly certain they'd have done it already if that was their plan.

Nothing happened and some of the tension eased. Stephanie focused on the redheaded woman. "Now," she said coldly, "why don't you start by telling me where the hell he is?"

The woman raised an eyebrow innocently, no sign of fear on her face. "Where the hell is who?"

"Don't give me that," Stephanie said shortly. "The man who was with me." Her voice trembled with emotion at _still_ not knowing where he was or how he was doing. "If you've hurt him," she said, "I _will_ kill every last one of you."

The woman looked startled and then confused. "Wait, if _we_ hurt him? I thought _you_ were the one who wanted to hurt him."

Stephanie gave her an incredulous look. "Are you insane? Why would I hurt him? I married him!"

The woman raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "Really? That's what you're going with? You realize no one believes that story, right?"

"Why wouldn't they?" Stephanie asked in annoyance. "It's the truth."

"According to some," the woman said cryptically.

Stephanie didn't have time to focus on it as the men with guns shifted, heralding the arrival of a man wearing a long trench coat and eyepatch striding into view around one of the cars. He had the air of someone used to being listened to and Stephanie focused on him but kept the gun trained on the woman.

"Where is my husband?" she demanded as soon as he got close. "And where the hell am I?"

"You are seventy years in the future," the man said bluntly. "As for Captain Barnes, his current location is classified."

Seventy years in the what now? Stephanie shook her head and filed it away under "To Deal With Later" in favor of focusing on the second part of his statement where he had the _audacity_ to deny her access to her own husband. She and Bucky had been together nearly their entire lives, had been to hell and back together, how _dare_ this stranger, who didn't know either of them think he could tell her when she could or could not see her husband? Pure, liquid rage, stronger than anything she'd ever felt before flowed through her and, when she spoke, her voice could have cut sheetrock. You have no right to keep him from me. I don't give a damn who you or what your operation is. I will rip it apart. I will kill every last one of you and _burn_ everything you've ever loved to the ground if you try to keep him from me."

There was silence. Several of the men training guns on her looked nervous and shifted uncomfortably in place.

The redheaded woman looked impressed.

The guy with the eyepatch studied her, his expression unreadable. "I just told you that you're seventy years in the future," he said finally, "and the only thing you're concerned about is Barnes?" He studied her. "Either you're telling the truth or you are one hell of a poker player."

"Give him _back_ ," Stephanie demanded, her voice shaking with emotion. " _Now_. I'm not asking again."

"Can't," he said simply, seeming unconcerned. "He's not awake, unless you'd like me to drag him out here into the bloody street still unconscious."

Stephanie let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding and her shoulders sagged. "He's alive?" she asked.

"He is," came the response, the man watching her response. "Just healing a bit slower than you."

"He got the knockoff version of the serum," Stephanie muttered. It had to have been the serum that saved them. How it had kept them alive for seventy years she had no idea but it was the only thing that made sense.  

The man shrugged. "Can't let you see him until he wakes up. You say you're his wife, but history tells it a bit different. Won't know which way to go until he wakes up and confirms it. You understand."

Stephanie felt a heavy feeling in her gut. History. History was written by the winners, or by those left to tell it. When she'd gone into the water she'd left the smear campaign Schmidt had waged on her behind, as well as people like Brandt and others who had a variety of reasons to uphold the smear, and very few reasons to deny it. Some, like Peggy and her men might have tried to tell the truth but in the light of the propaganda Schmidt had released, and the reach of men like Brandt, how many would have listened?

Apparently not many judging by the reaction she was getting.

Thoughts of Peggy and her men and her other friends brought a wave of grief as she realized it was very likely most, if not all of them, were dead. Even if they weren't they'd lived entire lives she had no knowledge of, and hadn't been a part of.

Bucky's parents were probably gone as well, she realized with a start. He'd be waking up an orphan, a fate she wouldn't wish on anyone and certainly not on him.

Eyepatch guy took a step closer and she jerked back.

"Come back with us," he said. "We'll put you in a room, not a cell," he said as she tensed. "You'll need to be monitored, and you can't see Barnes just yet, but you'll be safe. Once he wakes up and verifies your story, it's all good."

"I'm not going back with you," Stephanie said. The second she stepped foot back inside that place she'd be at his mercy. She had no idea if he was telling the truth about Bucky, or about not locking her back up. For God's sake, he thought she was _Hydra_ at best and a traitor at worst. He owed her no allegiance as far as he was concerned.

"Seems like we're at an impasse then," the guy said. "What do you propose we do about it?"

Stephanie calculated in her head. Bucky hadn't let her see how badly injured he was on the plane but, as far as she knew, he hadn't been injured as badly as she had been. He had the knockoff serum but it wasn't _that_ much worse than hers, according to what Howard had said, so he should still be healing fast. Assuming Eye Patch guy was telling the truth.

"I'll give you four days," she said finally. She slid along the wall, keeping the gun on the redheaded woman, edging toward a nearby alley. "It should be plenty of time for him to wake up. I see him by then, or I will come back and find him myself."

She stared at the man, her gaze unwavering. "If I find out you lied to me, you're going to wish you'd killed me when you had the chance."

With that she turned and ran.

No one tried to stop her.

***

Three days later, Stephanie found herself sitting in a passenger car on the Wonder Wheel on Coney Island. She'd chosen one of the cars fixed to the outer rim, not the ones that slid on a track as the wheel turned. Bucky had never liked the inner cars, preferring the view afforded by the fixed ones.

The view now was far different from the one she'd seen the last time she'd gone on the ride.

Seventy years.

Everything had changed. The war had been won, and people and technology had moved on while she had slept under ice. Her apartment was gone, the entire block leveled and turned into a parking garage, while Bucky's had been so thoroughly renovated it was unrecognizable. All her belongings and his were long, long gone. The only thing she owned anymore were the clothes on her back which, technically, weren't hers to begin with.

The car rose to the top of the Wheel and she looked out over the water and the landscape, taking comfort in the knowledge that at least some things were still the same. She'd almost burst into tears at the sight of the Wheel, older than she remembered but still familiar, a lasting landmark reaching to a home she could now only visit in the pages of a history book.

"We're not going to sit here for the entire day are we?" an aggrieved voice asked.

Stephanie shrugged, not looking at the redheaded woman, Natasha, who'd been following her since the moment she'd left. Stephanie had put up with it for a few hours before acknowledging she was wildly out of her element and had gone to introduce herself. It had never occurred to her to try and lose her tail; a woman wandering about with a metal arm probably wasn't something that could ever blend in.

"You realize all this costs money, right?" the woman went on. "In fact everything still costs money. These last few days have all been on my dime."

"I didn't exactly have any money on me when Hydra sent me to kill everyone," Stephanie said shortly. "Bill it to the idiot with the eyepatch. You check in with him often enough."

She hadn't known what the small device was that Natasha kept talking into and hadn't believed the other woman at first when she'd been informed it was a phone.

"I'm mostly checking up on Barnes for you," Natasha muttered. "Faster the guy wakes up the faster I can stop babysitting you." She rolled her head to look at her. "Don't get me wrong, I like you, but following you around like a lost puppy isn't exactly what I consider fun."

"Not been much fun for me either," Stephanie muttered. She sighed and dropped her head back against the headrest of the car. The first night, after Natasha had booked a small hotel room in a rundown section of town, at the end of a suspiciously empty row of rooms, Stephanie had told her the story of joining the SSR and everything that had come after.  

In return, Natasha had told her the story history told, and it was every bit as ugly as Stephanie had feared.

History, it would seem, did not look kindly upon Stephanie Rogers. There were many theories, concerning her, Bucky, and the nature of their relationship. Schmidt had done an excellent job on spreading the story of her being a traitor, either a plant from the beginning or willingly turned after being disillusioned from her life on stage. Brandt, from what Natasha told her, apparently ran with this theory, using it to prove that women were unfit for the battlefield. There were entire books written about her, speculation most of them, concerning her possible motivations, the depths to which she may have helped or hurt Hydra in the pursuit of maintaining her cover, when exactly she might have turned, and what, exactly, had been the true nature of her relationship with Bucky.

He, at least, had fared better. History remembered him as the real Captain America, the man who'd faked his death either to take on Hydra with greater freedom or, according to some, because he'd discovered her treachery and had sought to expose it. Some historians argued he'd been genuinely in love with her, others that one or both of them had simply been using the other and still others argued there had been no relationship at all.

There were detractors of course. Peggy, her men and Phillips had defended her as best they could, considering almost everything about her and her missions, had been classified and could not be discussed in public. They'd talked about her character and how she and Bucky had been deeply in love but they couldn't go into specifics. No one from her home, or from Bucky's family, had apparently ever spoken up which led Stephanie to believe they'd probably been forbidden from speaking. When Natasha said everything about her and Bucky had been classified, she meant _everything_. There were apparently just as many books speculating about their backgrounds and personal histories as there were about her motivations for joining Hydra or Bucky's for volunteering to become a symbol.  

"You don't seem all that upset," Natasha had said finally, after she'd finished speaking. She'd been sitting cross legged on her bed while Stephanie had sat on her own bed quietly listening.

She'd shrugged in response. "I never joined to be famous, or even well liked. I just wanted to make a difference, and I wanted to stay with James. I did both, whether history agrees with me or not."

"At least you'll answer one big mystery," Natasha had said with a grin. "It's always been a question as to why Captain Barnes appeared to have a wedding ring on in some of his photos. No one could remember him ever mentioning a wife and one never came forward after."

Stephanie rolled her eyes. She had a strong feeling Brandt had been behind the decision to classify everything. It meant the only narrative out was the one Schmidt had forwarded, and Brandt had supported for his own agenda. Without her or Bucky there to defend it, and with their families and friends forbidden from speaking up, it was little wonder she'd been vilified by history.    

Natasha had been quite startled to learn Stephanie's version, especially the part where the original Captain had been a normal guy named Tony. Natasha had done a search on a box using something called the internet and found there had, indeed, been a Tony Grant who'd been a recruiter as Stephanie had claimed. He'd retired after the war, married a young woman named Polly and had several children with her, his life happy and peaceful.

Stephanie had been happy to hear about him even as she'd grieved the knowledge that Tony, and most everyone she'd ever known, was long since dead and gone. It made her even more desperate to see Bucky again, now her one and only link to her past.

After that night, Natasha had grown much nicer to her and had readily followed her about as Stephanie had tried to make heads or tails of the new world she found herself in.

At least until she'd dragged the other woman onto the Wonder Wheel for four hours, which was apparently the final straw.  

The car they were in reached the bottom of the Wheel and Natasha sighed and stood up. "Come on," she ordered. "We've been wandering where you want long enough. My turn."

Stephanie shrugged and stood up. "Fair enough."

***

Stephanie stepped out of the dressing room and turned in a slow circle. "What do you think?"

Sitting on a chair at the entrance of the room, Natasha looked up from where she'd been examining her phone screen, and gave a thumbs up. "Very nice."

Stephanie grinned. Natasha had dragged her to a department store with the insistence that Stephanie had been wearing the same clothes long enough. Stephanie, in turn, had been only to happy to get to pick her own clothes and leave behind the ones someone else had dressed her in.

Natasha had helped her pick out waist overalls, which were apparently now called jeans and worn far more widely than they had been when she'd last been around, and light brown knee boots with a short heel. After that, Stephanie had chosen a form fitting, sky blue sweater with three quarter sleeves and pretty, mirror like jewels along the collar. "Do you think Bucky will like it?"

"If he doesn't he's an idiot," the other woman said. "Come on." She got up and waved a hand at Stephanie. "Let's charge it and get out of here. I've got something I want to show you."

Stephanie nodded. "All right."

***

As it turned out, the Smithsonian had an entire wing dedicated to Captain America and Lady Liberty. Every single theory about both of them was discussed with videos and supposed evidence backing up each. There were arguments for her being a plant from the start, a traitor turned after being disillusioned on the stage, even a few suggesting she'd really providing cover for Captain America after he faked his death. One or two argued for her having been the real force behind the destruction of all the Hydra bases but, with everything classified, it was impossible to prove.

The wing was empty when she walked in, suggesting either no one cared or, more likely, it had been cleared out before she'd arrived. She wasn't sure what that signified but went in anyway. She was tired of waiting. If something was going to happen might as well have it happen sooner rather than later.

She spotted an old interview done with Peggy Carter and went toward it slowly. Peggy was insisting Stephanie had been a true patriot and hero and that she and Bucky had been joined at the hip and never would have harmed one another.

Near it were pictures of the Howling Commandos and she stopped to read the signs under them, detailing her men's lives after her and the various things they'd experienced. She hadn't yet had the heart to ask about their fates, or Peggy's, or Howard's or any of the many others she'd known and most likely lost. She would ask eventually, but not just yet.

She caught sight of a glass case with what appeared to be her Lady Liberty costume, the stage one as the field one was, of course, lost. Next to it was a large display filled with examples of her photos from her many shoots. She caught sight of one off to the side and stepped forward, sucking in a sharp breath when she recognized it. It was the picture Schmidt had forced her to do, standing next to him and some of his other officers with the hanger full of Hydra soldiers and the plane laid out behind her. The photo was poor quality and grainy, making it impossible to see her expression, or the fact that she'd been almost dead on her feet from her various injuries. Next to it were various reports, from SSR agents reporting what they had seen and experienced in their various interactions with her. Many of them were damning, without even meaning to be. They simply reported what they had experienced, and without knowing she'd been forced...it was little wonder she was not seen in a positive light.

She pulled her eyes away, not wanting to dwell on it any longer, and paused as she saw a large, blown up picture of her team. Her entire team, Bucky included.

She approached it and lightly put a hand on where Bucky stood, frozen in time, his typical, cocky grin on his face as he listened to something Dum Dum was telling him. She traced her fingers over his face, her heart aching with misery.

Let history remember her however it damn well wanted.

All she wanted was Bucky.

"You know," a voice drawled from behind her, "I hear the real deal is ten times better."

Stephanie sucked in a harsh breath and whirled around.

Bucky stood on the other side of the room, just inside the doorway, watching her. She heard a noise behind her and turned her head just in time to see Natasha slipping out another door, leaving her and Bucky alone.

Stephanie started to take a step toward him, only to freeze mid-step.

He raised an eyebrow in query, and then she saw understanding dawn.

"Alright," he said, "how about I start?" He went to shove his hands in his pocket only to frown as he realized he had no pockets. He was dressed in simple brown pants and a t-shirt with SSR emblazoned across the front.  

"After I got drafted," Bucky said, "I tossed a ring at you at your kitchen table and told you I wanted you to marry me before I left."

"I said 'romantic proposal by the way'," Stephanie broke in, "'I can see why you had so much success with the ladies'."

He grinned. "Thought you didn't do romance."

Stephanie took another step closer to him. "On the plane," she said quietly, "as we were falling. I told you I never thought the end of the line would come so soon."

He nodded, taking a step forward himself. "And I said I thought it'd already come on the side of a mountain and I could live with it, or not as the case may be." His grin widened. "Turns out it was the former."

Stephanie gave a strangled laugh and started to move toward him only to have him hold a hand up, stalling her. With a truly wicked smirk he said, "Last one. You have an almost irrational obsession for seeing me in my dress uniform." Here he cocked his head slightly, looking down at her with a smirk and an expression she'd only ever seen on Bucky Barnes. "While my favorite for you was a toss up between my shirt and that silver outfit that you--"

"Bucky!" Stephanie shrieked, her face going red hot. She had no doubt they were currently surrounded with every word they said recorded.

Bucky shut up but kept smirking. Stephanie laughed and broke into a run, throwing herself into his arms. She jumped up to wrap her legs around his hips, grabbed his face in her hands and kissed him with an almost frantic energy.

He wrapped both arms around her and returned the kiss with just as much enthusiasm. After a few minutes, Stephanie pulled back to simply look at him, her vision blurring as she took in the first sight of him in what felt like forever.

"Have I told you lately how much I love you?" she asked.

"Apparently not for at least seventy years from what I'm told," he responded with a grin. "On that note, you know what else that means we haven't done in--" He shut up as she kissed him again, and then again, and again after that.

He put up with it for a few minutes but then moved his hands to her hips. She obediently unwound her legs from his hips and put her feet on the floor again. He pulled her in closer and kissed her again and she slid her hands into his hair.

They finally broke apart, his hands moving to her waist while she linked her arms around his neck.

"I love you James Buchanan Barnes," she whispered, only to frown as he grimaced.

"The last two times you've said that," he said dryly, "one or both of us has nearly died."

Stephanie gave him a guilty look. "Sorry. How about I love you, Bucky Barnes?"

"Better," he agreed. "Only you could give me a complex over my own name, Stephanie Rogers."

She tightened her arms around him and kissed him. "Stephanie Rogers?"

He gave a slow, lazy smile. "My apologies, I meant Stephanie Barnes."

She grinned back and then kissed him lightly on his forehead, then the tip of his nose and then on the lips.

"Did you meet the eyepatch guy?" Stephanie asked and Bucky grimaced.

"We had words, and there may have been a gun or two involved," he said shortly. "Once I woke up in a fake recovery room with a baseball game I took you to playing on the radio. You know I hate being lied to, almost as much as I dislike hearing my wife was apparently placed in a cell and forced to flee when she should have been celebrated."

"I don't care." She really didn't. Being locked up, having history look poorly upon her, none of it mattered as long as the end result was her getting him. She turned around, resting against his chest and pulling his arms to wrap around her. "Look, we have an entire wing of the Smithsonian now."

"So I see," Bucky said, sounding annoyed. "Along with a number of inaccuracies I plan to get straightened out."

Stephanie shrugged relaxing against him. Her eyes found the picture of her men, standing locked in time, and she felt a flash of sadness. It felt like she'd just seen them; she _had_ just seen them and it was difficult to truly get it into her head that they were all now gone. "All our friends are dead," she said softly. "And I never even got to say I was sorry."

She felt him squeeze her in a hug and then he buried his face against her neck. "The ones who mattered never blamed you."

"What are we going to do now?" she asked. "The war is over, and I have no idea what the hell anything is anymore."

Someone cleared their throat and they both turned to see eyepatch guy walking in.

"Fury," Bucky growled.

"Fury?" Stephanie said. "Your name is actually Fury?"

"That it is," he replied, "and I would like to apologize, to both of you, for the way things went down. We didn't know which theory was correct, so we had to go with the worst case scenario."

"Which involved putting my wife in a cell," Bucky said, anger clear in his voice, "when she'd already been through hell."

He still had his arms around her waist and Stephanie turned to tuck herself against him, wrapping her arms around him and curling against his chest. "It's okay," she said softly. "They were just trying to protect you."

"Yeah?" Bucky muttered, "and who protects you?"

"You do," she said instantly, turning her head to look at him.

He kissed her and then pulled back, his expression only slightly cooled down. They still had a lot to talk about, much of which she had no desire to relive, but, for the moment, she simply settled against his chest again. She felt him put a hand against the back of her head, pressing her head against his heart, and spoke over her head.

"What do you want?" he demanded, addressing Fury.

"The war is over," Fury said, "but the world still has its fair share of threats. Some of them are pretty damn big, size of something we might need a super human or two to handle. I'm trying to put together a team to address them."

"And you want Bucky to be a part of it?" Stephanie asked. She twisted around and put her back against his chest, making it clear anyone would have to go through her to get anywhere near him.

"On the contrary," Fury said. "I'd like you to both be a part of it." He reached inside his jacket and pulled a large file folder out from somewhere, holding it out to them."

Bucky reached past her to take it and frowned at the label. "The Avengers Initiative?"

"That's right," Fury said. "If you're willing, I'd like the chance to sit down and explain it to you."

Bucky glanced at her and she shrugged. "It's not like we have anything better to do. We may as well hear him out."

He grinned and kissed her on the side of the head, keeping one hand firmly around her waist as he handed the folder back.

"We'll listen," he said, "but not right now. She needs to rest, and so do I."

"Of course," Fury said. "You've been through a lot. We'll get you set up and give you some time to acclimate. Then, when you're ready, we'll talk again."

"Like I said," Bucky replied. "We'll listen, but it better be good."

Fury grinned. "Oh, I assure you," he said calmly. "It is. I think you're going to like it here."

Stephanie shrugged and tightened her arms around her husband, snuggling into him as if she thought she could crawl inside and share the same space with him if she just tried hard enough.

She already liked it there.

Anywhere Bucky was, that's where she wanted to be.

Everything else was just a bonus.

 

 

 

 


End file.
